


Perdu

by WhiteSwanCake



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), ouat
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood and Violence, Dark fic, Domestic Violence, F/M, Foster Care, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Horror Elements, Loss, Love Confessions, Memory Loss, Miscarriage, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-02-11 16:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteSwanCake/pseuds/WhiteSwanCake
Summary: Emma wakes up in a hellish landscape aptly titled "Silent Brook", her memories partially missing. Creatures roam it's foggy streets, including one that hunts her with a strange hunger. Is their familiarity part of the nightmare she is in? While her companions and her try to unravel the mystery of what is actually happening, the clock is running against them and their happy endings.





	1. Chapter 1

_There’s a grind of metal like she’s in a blender with a tin can. Everything is hot, and she hears a low voice yelling her name, but there is a blinding light and crunching everywhere. It smells like… Burnt toast and liquor, rum maybe? The light is so bright, and there’s a silhouette to her left of a man, saying her name, “Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma.” There’s an angry roar like a dragon or monstrous beast, right at her side, making her shut her eyes tight. A gust of cold air hits her and she gasps in a breath, her lungs starved of air.  
Suddenly she has noxious breath on her face, she’s being pulled over wet leaves, dragged away to this beast’s den, and she can’t move, she can’t breathe, panic deadens every muscle- she peeks open one eye and see’s a dark shape, blinks and then glowing red eyes are on her._

__

__

_Then everything is dark._

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Emma woke up with a start, her chest tight from the strange nightmare. Taking a deep breath, she realized from the cool cement floor and dim lighting, she obviously wasn’t in her bed. She was laying in an empty, dark, and quiet parking garage with no windows to be seen. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Where the hell was she? Standing up slowly, she moved to a corner to better assess her situation. She was wearing one of her favorite outfits, a red leather jacket, comfortable jeans, some worn t-shirt, boots, gloves, and a slouchy hat. She had her bag as well, a small crossbody made of canvas. She knelt to open her bag and recognized some stiffness, she must have been here a while. 

“What the fuck.” She said with a low voice. What happened and why wasn’t she at home? She tried to remember what she did last night. Nothing. There is a gaping darkness in her mind that expands back to… The last thing she actually remembers is her room mate and her fighting. 

_Ruby was yelling at her, and this time she’s not having it._

_”What right do you have to give me advice, and an ultimatum no less?”_

_”Emma, it is what it is. If you can’t see what is right there in front of you, I’m not going to sit here and watch.”_

_“Ruby, you are the biggest fucking hypocrite!” She’s getting red in the face, fists clenching. “You prance around here with person after person, it's like a damn mardi gras parade-”_

_“They know what we’re doing. I have no expectations. You do. Emma. He’s using you, He’s hurting you, and-”_

_“Oh fuck off Ruby.” She turned towards the door, grabbing her pack of camel crush cigarettes. Storming out into the hot Summer air, she crushed the menthol bead and lit it up, using a match. She had a lighter, but matches were handier in a tough spot. She rubbed the matchbook. “Savior: Boutique Hotel” in gold lettering was along the front, a reminder of what she escaped. She was strong. Ruby was wrong, and Ruby was another in a long line of people who had been let in too close. Another person who would be let go for giving advice on something they didn’t understand._

_She pulled out her phone and dialed._

_”Yeah, hey babe. No, nothing’s wrong. I just… I thought more about what you said, and you’re right, she’s bad news and I think she does have something there- I’ll come live with you. Ha! Mmmhmm. Tonight. See you soon.”_

_She pressed end call, smashed her phone in her pocket, and went back inside to start packing._

When was that opposed to the blank space that now took up her memories? She could vaguely remember it wasn’t recent. She stood and collected herself, moving as silently as possible through the garage. She spotted a column that read B2, This is probably the Basement level, but of what? She hurried up the ramps, seeking at least an idea of where she was that was so empty of cars and people.  
Coming around the corner of the ground floor, the first thing she see’s is a Blue sedan, lights on and doors open, haphazardly parked in the middle of the garage. Emma was back on guard immediately. This was a trap if she’d ever seen one, and not a good one. To her right is a flat wall, pillars and wall to her left, and the car in the middle facing her. She looked for a way around that she could get past where the initial ambush would come from. Her guess was someone is either under the car, or hiding behind pillars nearby to run out and either attack or grab her, a basic carjacking or kidnapping ploy. She made her move right, keeping as close to the wall as possible and watching her left side slowly. 

Her heart began to beat at a faster rate when she saw movement not only behind one of the pillars, but under the car as well. There were two of them.

Emma reached the top of the down ramp for the ground floor, and could see the exit in front of her, about 100 yards away. Without looking back she began to run. The figure behind the pillars on her left was running too, and making a good pace. A man, tall, with dark blonde hair, and blue eyes.

”M! Get in the car and wait for me!” He shouted, and Emma turned her head to see a petite figure wiggle out from under the car, keys in hand, and heard the engine start. 

”Shit, shit, shit, shit.” Emma was so close to making it out of the garage, but the man was catching up with her easily.

“Don’t - “ he yelled stopping about 10 feet from her. “Don’t go out! It’s not safe, please.” he panted and his hands fell to his knees as he bent over. 

Emma was always able to hear truth in people, she had called it a super power. Well. Most people.  
She stopped in her tracks, turning to face her assailant, because not only had the words been truth, but they were laced with a fear that sent a shiver down her spine. 

The car rolled up just behind him, and he glanced at the female driver. 

“Listen, My name is David, and this is my wife, Mary Margaret.” he gestured at the car. “We were sleeping in the car, and thought you were one of them, so we hid. We don’t want any trouble if you don’t. We’re just confused and want to know what’s going on.” He straightened up, looking at Emma. Everything he said was true. 

”Where are we?” Emma asked.

A brunette head in a white cap popped out of the driver’s window. “We thought you might know…?”

“Wait, you don’t know where we are?” Emma asked incredulously.

“Nope. We woke up here in our car, got attacked by these things, and have been trying to find anyone who isn’t insane.” David said, and ran a hand into his hair. 

“You were attacked? What do you mean “Things”?” 

“It’s hard to explain, but we aren’t safe. There’s something wrong here, and whatever the hell those things are, they aren’t friendly. They’re like… Shadows, but they can hurt you.” He saw the look on Emma’s face.”I know. Listen, I know, I’m a cop - it sounds insane. You have to understand though, we watched them kill our friend.”

“Tink. They killed…” Mary Margaret let out a small noise from the car. “They killed her.”

Emma blinked slowly. “Look, I appreciate the warning, but I’m okay on my own. I do better on my own.” She took a step back towards the opening at the front of the garage.  
David sighed. “Look, please, even just let us show you before you run out there and get yourself killed.” He reached out a hand. “I promise, tell me your name and we’ll help you get out of here. We just want to get out of here too.”

Emma turned and ran out of the garage. She heard them calling after her, but kept moving out into the fresh air.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Emma ducked into a back alley as she saw the car roll past, waiting until it rolled away before doubling back. She was in a town. An empty town. It was cold, with a gray overcast sky making the shops look dark and ominous. It began to lightly snow, and Emma shivered. It definitely wasn’t Summer anymore.

Thick fog swirled around a ghost town. Emma explored cautiously, checking doors down what seemed to be the main thoroughfare of this town. She came to a diner, in classic Americana style, and found the shades closed but the door open. She pushed the door open slightly and slid inside. Booths lined a black and white tile floor with a raised bar and stools on one side. A jukebox at the end of the hall showed two doors marked men and ladies. 

She heard movement coming from the door and watched the knob turn slowly, as she hid behind the bar’s counter. The smell of burnt rubber, rum, gasoline, iron and antiseptic assaulted her like a heavy shroud, flooding into the diner. She heard something slowly walk towards the back of the restaurant. Crouching down she crawled towards the front of the bar to peek out, and make a break back out into the street. Carefully, she dipped her head around the bar, and stared at the horror in front of her.

A huge contorted shadow of a man was twisted, jerking spastically, trying to walk towards the jukebox. Emma felt the need to be sick. She scooted closer to the door, grasping the handle. 

“Ah, ah, ahhhh Emmmmmmmaaaaaa-” came a garbled voice. The shadow was looking at her, waggling a long claw, it's face a swirling mass of nothing except for adifferent shaped piercing blue and dark brown eyes. “I told you, you can never escape me!” The monster lunged at her, and she tried the door but it was locked now. She jumped into a booth as it hurtled into the door, splintering the wood frame and cracking the glass. It shuddered and turned to her, it’s neck twisting grotesquely and head turning from it’s front to it’s back. “Emma. I’m always watching.” Emma jumped out of the booth toward the back, as it dragged itself like some sort of demon centipede towards her. It’s breath was hot and she could feel it huffing, that smell burning the back of her neck. She slammed into the back door and came out in an alleyway, running towards the exit. It clamored after her, pushing aside crates as it roared. Around her she saw other smaller shadows join in it’s chase all mumbling her name. 

She came to the street, and ran towards a clock tower placed near the middle of town. Shadows poured from what felt like everywhere around her, as she saw the sun starting to set. A horde of them approached her, as she searched for an escape, watching the huge shadow absorb the smaller ones, becoming bigger, and laughing darkly. 

“Oh Emma. Don’t fight anymore. You can’t win.” Emma felt her back press into the door firmly, and closed her eyes. 

_**Oh, Emma. What has he done to you? I’m so sorry.** _

Ruby’s voice floated through her ears, as a sudden storm began to churn it’s way across the sky, lightning causing a blinding flash. The monster hissed, throwing it’s now may hands up over it’s eyes. Thunder cracked, a deep bellow, and above it’s roar she heard a car horn. She turned to see headlights hitting a group of shadows causing them to melt away . 

“GET IN!” David yelled out a half cracked window. 

Emma did without hesitation.  
She heard the monsters howls of rage until they were out of town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first piece.  
> Perdu is one of those distinct French words, that means "Lost".  
> No beta or editor, if you like this, please let me know.  
> You can find me on tumblr at Courtorderedcake, to see more of my twisted soul.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks as always to the wonderful, supportive, and brilliant Tumblr CS community. 
> 
> Shout outs to Artistic-Writer and Holly-the-Curious who have tolerated my many questions. 
> 
> Chapters from here on out will be longer. I couldn't get that first chapter a nice length, but I've got a nice rhythm going now.

Chapter II

They were in a small cabin off the woods, right outside of town, where David had discovered a generator and some gas to turn the power on. Emma was shaken to her core, and when they had made it away, she had broken into Mary Margaret’s arms, sobbing like a child. Mary, to her credit, had soothed her like the mother she’d never had. 

“The cabin has electricity. We’re safe, I promise. You can rest here, and then we’ll talk.” Mary soothed Emma’s hair again and again. 

David helped get her inside, and showed her a bed where she fell quickly asleep. 

_She feels rage like molten lava surge through her, as she reaches into a cheap cabinet and her hand connects with glass. Her stomach jumps to her throat, and there she finds behind the food processor they never use, several bottles of rum. It’s not worth pouring them down the drain this time._  
_A broken glass sit on a counter, there’s yelling, her face hurts and she breathes in. She hits the floor, and begins to count, “1, 2 , 3, 1, 2, 3.”_  
_Her clothes are stuck to her body like a second skin of ice. Even her hat and scarf are stuck over her body. It’s raining, and her hands are numb as she bangs on a thick door. It opens, and a man grunts at her from the dimness on the other side._  
_“Please, I have nowhere else to go.”_  
_“Fine. Come inside.” She steps in onto wood floors, into warmth, into someone tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear with tenderness. She catches a whiff of cinnamon, maple syrup, and the sea before things turn on there side and she’s somewhere else._  
_She’s dancing on a knife’s edge, over a stage, and she can see in the audience there are two shadowy figures watching. She looks up again and there’s only one. The shock makes her lose her balance and she falls flipping and tumbling for days until a pair of calloused hands catch her. She feels the tickle of his hair on her ear, as he whispers, “It will be alright. I promise.”_  
_An envelope the color of butter yellow, the color of her car, on a counter. There’s no broken glass but the envelope fills her with immense dread, as if what’s inside will kill her if she opens it._  
_The sound of grinding metal like she’s in a blender with a tin can. Something is burning, and she hears a low voice yelling her name. She reaches for something as smoke swirls in tendrils around her. It becomes harder to breathe, and she falls to her knees. A monster hisses her name in her ear, extending the syllables out like a hum that vibrates her molars. A burning streak of light explodes and the sound of crunching everywhere._  
_She’s in a tumbler, doing a backstroke in rum, washing her hair with rum, and the smell is overpowering but it’s not right it shouldn’t be here. It goes over her head and she’s gulping rum into her lungs instead of air, burning, burning, burning- She sinks to the bottom into a seat._  
_The rum is gone, and she can breathe again. She struggles to get out of the seat she’s in but the seat belt is jammed no matter how hard she tugs. A light goes on outside and there’s a silhouette to her left of a man, saying her name, “Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma.” There’s a shout, and thunder booms nearby. She tries to turn her head towards the noise, but she’s being pulled by something and roughly. The shadow is roaring, it’s teeth bared, right at her side. It’s eyes bulge towards her and they are so frightening but familiar. A gust of cold air hits her and she gasps in a breath, blinking slowly, scrambling away from the monster’s reach. She moves like she is swimming through jello. It takes her in it’s claws and throws her to the ground, knocking the air out of her chest._  
_She’s being pulled over wet leaves, dragged away to this beast’s den. She can see smoke rising, as it digs into her calf whispering her name again and again. She hears Ruby through the crunch of it’s steps._  
**“Emma, I’m so sorry.” Ruby is sobbing, somewhere far off. Emma felt a warmth on her hand like a baby bird had landed. “I’m so sorry, I should have been there for you.”**  
_Emma closes her eyes as the monster drags her away. She listens to Ruby’s soothing voice, drifting into blackness._  


Sunlight streamed hazily down over Emma’s eye lashes as she woke up, and she heard hushed voices talking in the kitchen. 

“We have to figure out something.”

“M&M, I know. I just think the woods is probably our best bet.”

“The woods. Where it’s literally full of deep shadow and where we haven’t seen any movement since we got here? And David, how are you going to catch something?”

“We have to eat. I still remember snare traps from boy scouts, we can even find some roots if we dig under the snow. If there’s a pond I can even ice fish. It’s something. There is nothing for us in that town.”

Emma heard the sound of a chair scraping.

”M&M, please don’t cry.” David’s voice cracked. 

“I just… What did we do? Are we crazy? All I can remember is fighting with you over the radio and now…” She sobbed, taking gasps of air. 

“Well I couldn’t have planned it better than to go crazy with you.” Emma turned away to look out he window when she heard the two kiss. Fluffy snowflakes were falling, coating the world in white. In the distance, she could see shapes moving indistinctly.

_Snowflakes fell on her lashes, and she remembered how the English brothers had always said they tasted better near the ocean. Here in London, they were gray. Everything was gray - a light was taken from an already dark world. A brother was now alone._

_She shivered in the bitter cold, clutching her coat around her. Walking on the slick sidewalk, she looked up at the church in front of her, it’s Gothic structure and carved saints brought her no comfort. Today was the worst day of her best friend’s life. The wind blew harshly, and her eyes watered. She wished she wasn’t here. She wished their wasn’t a reason to be here._

_“Swan.” A quiet voice behind her spoke._

_Emma turned and looked at his form, broken into a mockery of his normal self. Her heart ached for him._

_“Thanks for coming early. I just…” A hand swept back against his neck, below his ear. “I can’t-” tears began to fall down his face as he crumbled, and Milah came up behind him, ushering him inside._

_A firm hand grabbed Emma’s wrist, pulling her inside as well. A voice low, and hissed, in her ear, “Tuck in your hair, Em.” she did as he asked and his grip grew tighter. “Remember, I’m here for you.” The words echoed ominously in her head, as she watched Killian cry by Liam’s casket. She cried silently from a pew, a hand holding hers like a cage._

“Emma?” a soft knock at the door startled her out of her memory. “We’re going to try and find something to eat.” Mary Margaret spoke, back to her chipper demeanor. Emma noticed for the first time that she didn’t feel hungry. 

“Let’s go over what we know first.” Emma grabbed her red jacket, and shrugged it on over her shoulders. 

They all met in the small living area.

“Alright. I’m Emma Sw-” she paused, deciding to give a different name. Nice strangers were still strangers. “Emma Swift.”

“Captain David Nolan. ”

“Mary Margaret Blanchard. I’m a school teacher in Roseland. I teach 3rd grade.”

“OK- Now what’ the last thing you remember? For me it was fighting with my room mate, but I don’t think that was recent. I feel like I’m missing things.” Emma rubbed her temples, before looking up.

David and Mary Margaret exchanged glances. 

“I was off duty, but there was something I was doing for work.” David’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Something about a potential domestic dispute?” Mary Margaret nodded.

“Tink was over and we were working on the curriculum. She asked if we could give her a ride home. She pretty much fell asleep in the back seat. Then I tried to change the radio, you had that ridiculous country station on, and Tink was trying to sleep-”

“Classic country, none of that new pop rock crap, c’mon-”

“Sure, whatever. I changed it to Belle’s station to listen to some Tchaikovsky, my class is learning about the master’s in their music unit. We’re doing The Nutcracker as a school, so all the kids were really excited, Belle’s been laying it non stop instead of her normal stuff. She doesn’t usually play the normal Christmas stuff anyway, but…” Mary Margaret trailed off, looking at the tense expression on Emma’s face. “What’s wrong Emma?”

“Christmas stuff? Do you remember the date?” 

“It’s been about a day and a half since we’ve been here, but it was December 18th.” David replied, matter of factly. “It was around midnight when we were on our way down the hill on Juniper drive, we stopped at the sign, messing with the radio, and then it’s blank.”

Mary nodded, and added, “I remember the song that was on. ‘March of the Snowflakes’.” David and her exchanged glances, David’s brow’s scrunched.

Emma held her face in her hands, impassive. The fight with Ruby had been in June. Six months of her life was missing. 

David got up and began preparing some back packs to hike with with Mary Margaret, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts. Six months.

_It had been six months since Emma escaped her last foster family. She had relished the freedom, had done great, until an early September frost had set into an unusually cold winter. The street was unforgiving even with her pilfered sleeping bag, and shelters asked too many questions. She’d hit a lucky break when she marked a potential sleeping place, and noticed it lying empty for ages. Whoever owned this place was never there, if anyone owned it. She’d crawled in through a back window she’s pushed up with a coat hanger, carefully closing it back down once inside. The furniture was covered in dust cloths, the power off, along with the plumbing. The pantry held some dry and canned goods worth taking if needed. The mail, when she had checked it out of curiosity, read Jones._

_“Thanks, Mr. And Mrs. Jones.” She mumbled, when she made her way back up to the pull down attic stair with several cans of soup under her arms. Better parents then she ever had, and even better providers at that. She could hear the wind howling outside, and for once it didn’t matter. The wind couldn’t touch her in here. Nothing could. In the tiniest space, Emma felt free.  
She sighed and crawled into her sleeping bag and assorted bedding she’d found. A dark navy quilt decorated with sea stars had fast become her favorite, and although she tried not to steal, it was one of the most tempting items she’d come across. “Good night Jones family. I wish you well.”_

_A bang woke Emma with a start. Someone was stomping around the house, and it sounded like a literal hurricane was being let loose. She heard furniture being thrown, the opening and slamming of doors, the scrape of couches long disused being moved.  
Her heart began to race. The one downside to her particular hiding spot was that it only had one viable exit, which she hadn’t planned on using quite so soon. The snow looked like it had no intention of letting up, and after snow came ice, which was truly deadly. She’d cased this house for months and there was no movement. _

_A male voice directly below her fed her panic._

_“Bloody fucking hell, where is it?” More stomping, down the long hallway, towards the rooms she never opened, where there was more noise._

_With as much stealth as possible, Emma curled herself into her sleeping bag, piling all her scavenged blankets on top of her, and willing herself to be as small as possible. She held the Navy blanket close, breathing into it slowly, to muffle her sound. A bang like a wild animal flailing, followed by more stomping had her worst fears happening in a flash. The attic’s stairs came down, her attempts to wedge it shut a failure. Stomping up the stairs, a long line of curses, and a blurry, dark, shaggy haired, came into view although somewhat obscured. A flashlight shown on her location, and she closed her eyes tight, willing herself to disappear._

_“Ah! Gotcha, here you are.” An English accent that took the air out of her lungs, and froze her with fright. This was it, she was found, back to homes, or detention centers, or they could probably just try her as an adult and call it a day-_

_She felt a tug of the blanket she was holding, and it didn’t register at first. Peeking an eye open, the burglar was pulling on the sea star blanket intent on getting it untangled from her grip. He dug through the blankets, unaware she was beneath, pulling at the same time. When he touched her hand and a shock ran through them, Emma snapped back to reality and let go. The burglar tumbled backwards, clutching the blanket to him in shock, and fell through the hole to the floor below._

_She scrambled after him, and peeked down the stairs. Bright blue eyes caught hers, widening in panic._

_“Did I die? What a terrible way to die.” His voice cracked, the wind knocked out of him._

_“Promise you won’t call the cops if I come down there to help you. I’ll leave, you can leave, we don’t have to get in trouble.” She tried to hide the shaking in her voice. “Please. I don’t want trouble.”_

_“I take it I’m not dead then.”_

_“Cops. Yes or no.”_

_“No.”_

_“Then no, you are not dead.”_

_“Am I hallucinating? Why are you in my house?” His eyes focused in on her, and she scooted back to grab her backpack and sleeping bag. Taking a step down the ladder backwards, feet facing the sprawled body. Reaching around, she moved so the ladder stood between them._

_“You’re not… You live here?” Emma felt her head cock to the side. When he started to get up her fight or flight reared into action, and she took a step back._

_“I live here, or now I do. Liam didn’t say anything about there being pests.” He stood at full height and Emma bristled._

_“I’ll be going, I’m sorry, I really thought no one lived here. Thank you for not calling the cops.” She took a sideways glance past him where the stairs were._

_“How old are you?” he asked. She blanched, and her eyes shot to the stairs again. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you or anything I’m asking because…” He seemed to think for a moment. “Do you have a place to stay?”_

_She shook her head no._

_“I’m Killian. I’m 16. Electricity and water will be on tomorrow. Are you hungry at least? I’ve got -” He scooted around the side of the wall to a duffel she hadn’t noticed. She edged along the banister, closer to the stairs now, a clear escape route presenting itself. “Some sort of chocolate biscuit, popcorn, a can of some attempt of pasta, a bunch of candy I don’t even like. You know, you about killed me, the least you can do is stay and eat so I can ask you why.”_

_Glancing outside at the snow and wind, then to the stairs, she conceded._

_“I’m Emma.”  
_

Hiking through the snow turned out to be invigorating. David and Mary Margaret initially tried to make pleasant small talk, but after Emma assured them it wasn’t necessary, they fell silent. David to his credit was a good tracker, pointing out by tree placement and the sun’s position the were moving cardinal directions, the issue was that the snow that lay around in all directions was unmoved. There was nothing to track. At first this wasn’t a huge deal, Mary Margaret had explained.

“I’m an avid Animal Planet junkie. I love Audubon, I could bird watch and snuggle forest critters all day.” She was practically jumping up and down, and Emma felt a pang of amused annoyance. “See, here, where the woods are sparse and there’s not a whole lot of insulation, we won’t see so many animals. Once we get in and sit in a blind or unsettle things a bit we’ll hear and see more.” She beamed at Emma, and grasped David’s hand, swaying it back and forth between them.

Deeper into the woods , the echo of the footsteps was the only noise, and Emma noticed Mary Margaret’s frown. 

“Well. No shadows here… at least.” David glanced to Mary Margaret who looked close to tears.

Emma spoke, breaking the tension. “Let’s set up a camp here then, it’s safe and we can keep traveling until we find someone who knows what the hell is happening. Plus, animals like dusk, right Mary Margaret?” Mary Margaret nodded absentmindedly, looking pointedly at a grove of pine. 

“I’ll get firewood, stay close together.” David kissed Mary Margaret on the head, and went into the woods.

Emma and Mary Margaret found a relatively clear spot, and began setting up a tarp, moving snow around to the best of their ability. They pushed a set of tents that David apparently always kept in his trunk - Mary Margaret said he was nuts about safety - against a thick undergrowth that allowed them reprieve from the wind. The entire time, they made no conversation. 

Emma finally couldn’t take it. “What’s wrong?”

“This. This is wrong.” Mary Margaret made a wide gesture.

“Well, yes, the shadow thing and -”

“No. Emma. Look at me.” She looked Emma dead in the eyes, getting closer to her face. “I’m not hungry. We haven’t eaten in at least two days now, and I’m not hungry. I’m cold, but I’m not freezing. The snow here, it’s… it’s not right, I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like ash almost. There are no animals here, there’s no bird song, not even a cardinal! And if I listen, I can hear music. It’s like, it’s like a radio being held underwater but it’s there and it’s getting louder. Emma, I’m going crazy, and I know it. People shouldn’t have to know they’re going crazy.” Mary Margaret’s eyes filled with tears, and she swiped them away quickly.

“I know this is weird, and I can’t explain it, I mean I really can’t. Just… Well OK, if you’re crazy, then so am I. I keep having nightmares in her, super intense nightmares, and you’re right things seem off even with the weird threat of death non standing-”

“Emma.” Mary Margaret’s eyes widened. “Emma… You’re having dreams too?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first piece.  
> Perdu is one of those distinct French words, that means "Lost".  
> No beta or editor, if you like this, please let me know.  
> You can find me on tumblr at Courtorderedcake, to see more of my twisted soul.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, just got out of a hospital stay and off of bed rest for a tic.
> 
> As always, I'm eternally thankful for those who give me encouragement and love. 
> 
> You're the bee's knees, my sweets.

Mary Margaret’s dream was much less… Abstract then Emma’s. They sat outside the tents, waiting for David to get back.

 

“Okay Emma. It’s the weirdest dream, because it’s so lifelike, alright? I’m going to ramble, but I always ramble, so just bare with me -”

 

Emma sighed loudly. “Alright.”

 

“Alright, Ok. In the dream, I’m a child, but not a child. I’m wearing one of my favorite dresses from when I was a kid, all pink and poofy, like a princess, you know?” Emma shakes her head no. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine. Go on.”

 

“Anyway, I’m a princess and I am twirling in a dress, in my castle. I get hungry, so I go into the kitchen and my mother is there. Except she’s not my mother. She’s this older lady from my child hood we thought was a witch. Cora, I think her name was. She’s wearing my mother’s clothes and I know she’s my mother, but she’s not. She asks me for breakfast, and I give her a red apple.

“She bites into it, but it doesn’t sound right. It’s like, broken glass and it’s so loud. I can hear it everywhere. She spits it out and throws it at a window. The window breaks, and the apple turns into a fairy who flies away. She gets angry, and she yells at me, I know she’s asking me to change clothes but the sound she makes is like… It’s like thunder or a gunshot?

“I run upstairs and I’m out of breath. It’s hard to breathe already, but I put on a dress with the tightest corset I can find, and go downstairs for her to show her. She walks behind me and makes it tighter and tighter- my chest hurts so bad. Then she grabs my hair, yanks me around, and the dress comes loose! I can breathe. She’s still not happy though, and she makes another noise, it sounds like grinding metal. She says I have one more chance to get her a gift, her favorite thing in the world.

“So I go into the garden to pick flowers for her, because that’s why we thought Cora was a witch- she grew these huge plants and giant roses bushes. I pick her favorite red roses, but they keep changing to blue. Red and blue, red and blue, back and forth, and I give them to her anyway, but she gets mad. She starts wailing at me, and I get scared. I reach out a hand for David, and he’s not there, no one is. I’m so scared now, and my heart is beating so hard, it feels like a rabbit about to jump out of my chest. It jumps, once, and I can see my chest move forward, my heart is literally trying to escape my ribcage- and then again, and Cora reaches in and pulls out my heart. It’s awful, she’s holding it, squeezing, it’s this bright red color- all while moaning this low, almost electrical, whine.

“Then, there’s a dwarf, and he whacks her with a shovel, and gives me back my heart. I start to breathe again, and I wake up. It’s the same every time.”

 

“Oh.” Emma tried to process the information that was just given to her. “A dwarf… hits her, with a shovel.”

 

“Yes Emma.”

 

“I don’t think Freud covered this.”

 

“If it makes it anymore ridiculous, I hear someone say, ‘You did it, Grumpy’ right before I wake up.”

 

“It does make it more ridiculous.” Emma can’t help the smile that’s crawled onto her face.

 

“Listen, that’s what I’m talking about. Do you hear that?” Mary Margaret rises to stand slowly, looking around.

 

Emma strained her ears, trying to hear anything beyond the wind. “No. What is it?”

 

“I think… I think it’s ‘The Dance of the Toy Flutes’.” she whispered.

 

“Music?”

 

Mary Margaret nodded. “Not just any music. Belle’s music.”

 

David stomped into the camp with wood and some scrubby brush, dropping them in the hole Emma and Mary Margaret had dug.

 

“This forest makes no sense.” He mumbled, arranging the sticks and branches. “I marked trails for myself and its not snowing enough to cover anything, but I can’t back track on myself. Be careful if you step off without someone.”

 

“David, Emma is having dreams too. Like ours. And she’s not hungry either.” David stopped for a moment, and then continued arranging the branches.

 

“I told you, there’s a reasonable explanation for all of this. I mean, who knows. Maybe there was some chemical dump here. Let’s just get warm, and focus on finding people or a place I can at least fish.” He shrugged, and could not hide the tension in it. He blew on the sparks he started with some matches. “It’s starting to get warmer, anyway. Have you noticed?”

 

“David. Please, tell her your dream. It’s important, I know it is and I-”

 

“FINE.” he stood as the fire roared to life. “Fine. Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll tell you tomorrow Emma. I just… This is not up my alley.” He walked to sit next to Mary Margaret, and rested his head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

_“I’m sorry, please, I thought I’d have signal, I had no idea that-”_

_Crack. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3 - Like a waltz Emma._

_“Next time, you better make sure to find some way to let me know you’re alright.” He stroked the blossom of the bruise growing on her cheek. “I never want to see you hurt, Em. I love you so much, and I get so worried. I’m sorry, too.”_

_Sorry tasted like bile._

* * *

 

The night was starless but lit by the moon, and they slept in shifts, making sure the camp was protected. David offered to take longer hours, but Emma refused.

 

“Honestly, I’d rather dream less, if possible.” She shot a sideways glance at David. He nodded.

 

Mary Margaret let her know her she was good to sleep for a few hours, and she noticed that she looked, distant.

 

“Still hear it?”

 

“Yeah. It’s so much louder now, and I can hear… Never mind.”

 

“I can stay up, instead, or David and I- “

 

“Shhhhh! No! No. David needs rest. He’s so scared, and he’s been so strong.” She glowed, as she glanced back at the tent where soft snores drifted. “And you! You need sleep too. Go on.” She shooed Emma to the other tent and sat by the fire, staring straight into the flame.

 

* * *

 

_At first, she was supposed to stay for a dinner of duffle bag food and some shaken soda cans. After the initial shock of him not calling the cops, keeping her from out in the cold, and providing what he referred to a “Ten course aperitif sampler” in a mock french accent she snorted Dr. Pepper out of her nose._

_“So. Emma. Your Age?”_

_“I’m 14.” for once she felt shy. Her hair and clothes stank, and she knew that her socks were almost black even though she wore several pairs. If she lived a normal life, she might pass as pretty given a nice wardrobe, and make up, but here in Hobo Couture along with her plain features, she was a dull scrap of burlap and he was crimson silk._

_“You’re… Fourteen.” He looked shocked. Her embarrassment was even worse, and she felt herself become flushed red. “No, no, I just. You are all alone and breaking into houses at 14? You aren’t on drugs are you?” He scratched behind his ear, shaking his head._

_She shrugged. “No. No drugs. It’s this or back in the system. And I’m almost 15, so…”_

_“You don’t want a family?”_

_Now anger flooded her with sudden ferocity she hadn’t felt in years, and she snarled. “Of course I want a family. You think it’s easy to get one? Just go out to Wal-Mart and see what’s on blue light special? At least your parents have the decency to stock the pantry just in case you decide to show up.“ She put on an over affected accent, mocking him. “You were probably playing polo at the Summer house in Chestershireton, sipping tea and -”_

_She almost didn’t hear it at first, the seething rage of a whisper that hissed through her anger like a needle into a balloon. Green fury caught blue and black storm clouds, anger roiling off them and settling._

_“What… What did you say?”_

_“They died. Almost two years ago. This was Dad’s secret hideaway to meet women since Mum was too sick to keep him entertained.” He spat the words._

_“At least you had them!”_

_“You’re welcome to a father who wastes a fortune on drink, whores, and gambling while his son’s care to their ill mum, it’s a real treat Little Orphan Annie.”_

_“You’re insufferable, absolutely, rotten, a boar-”_

_“You’ve known me all of 10 minutes!”_

_“And you’ve disgusted me the entire ten, you pompous, overbearing, pig headed, buffoon- Are you laughing at me? You’re crazy, too.” She eyed him up and down, as he was overcome with laughter._

_He took a deep breath, and tried to choke out words. “Lass, I have never-” another laugh. “I’ve never been spoken to like that in my life.” he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye._

_“You deserved it.” She said indignantly._

_“You forgot, dashing rapscallion.” he said starting up his laughter again._

_Emma tried not to smile. “You’re a hooligan.”_

_“Vagabond.”_

_She started laughing too._

_“Look, I am hopefully not going to be here long, I’m going to return to London as soon as I can. As long as you stay clean, and I mean in drugs and next to Godliness, there’s a spare room upstairs. I don’t want trouble either. This house is in disuse, you might as well make better use of it than us.”_

_She trusted him, for some reason. Some hero, from when she used to believe in princesses in towers, had scaled her walls using his own hurt._

_“Only for a few days.”_

_“Sure. Like I said, same here. London Calling.”_

_She didn’t leave for weeks. Neither did he. She clamped down on her instincts that swirled around every red flag, every warning, trying to cut strings that might attach her to this. She could leave anytime she needed too. Instead of the attic space, he told her to use one of the actual bedrooms, the biggest with the en suite shower bath and a lock on the door. Emma luxuriated in the fact she had a soft mattress, and warm shower. Red flag, screamed her brain. He gave her a box of his old clothes, showed her his books (“I have the annotated Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan, they’re brilliant”), filled the pantry, and left well enough alone to ease any discomfort. Red flag, red flag, red flag, her brain roared. She tucked it away, burying it. Just for once, this could be OK. Pain recognized pain, and respected firmly set boundaries without question or thought._

_Weeks turned into a few months._

_She was curled into a chair reading with her glasses on when he sat down nearby._

_“You’re not going to be happy with me.” Emma bristled, alarm bells going off in her mind. She closed her book, sitting up to face him.“But listen before you freak out, Liam knows everything about you. He knows your here, and he’s okay with it. He’s fine with you being here, he wants to meet you, though, and I know this is truly rotten but I want you to meet him.” Killian’s eyes were bright. Emma could only gape at him. “He’s amazing, I think you’ll like him. He’s in the Royal Navy and just got a promotion to some fancy position -”_

_“When will he be here.” Emma said quietly._

_“That’s the thing.” He scratched behind his ear, looking sheepish. “Tonight…?” Emma’s eyes widened, and her fists balled up in her lap._

_“Oh.” She looked down at her hands, knuckles going white. “ Not much of a choice, then.”_

_“I didn’t want you to run.”_

_She nodded, and left to get ready without a word._

_She did like Liam. Where as Killian was like a tsunami, impossible to ignore in his brashness, Liam was a riptide or a coming storm - There was obvious strength lying under a dangerously calm exterior. Watching Killian and him interact was like watching a scale balance. They ate ordered pizza, while they told her stories from their childhood, and for once, Emma felt at home. Watching them, their small and imperfect family, she made a clear decision._

_The payphone was dimly lit, and the receiver was stickier than she would have liked. Popping in coins, she dialed quickly._

_“Emma? Emma, Love, is it you?” Killian was panicked, and she felt a pang of guilt._

_“Yes, listen, I’m fine-”_

_“You’re okay? Alright where are you, we’ll come and get you-”_

_“No, I’m alright. I’ll send you a postcard when I can.”_  
  
_”Emma. Please. You didn’t have to leave.”_

_“I was always going to leave. That was the deal, remember?” she toyed with the cord, causing a crackle in the line. “Listen, it’s good news anyway. It’s warm here year round. I just wanted to say I’m sorry that I didn’t say goodbye, I’m not good with… goodbyes, you know, and I didn’t want you to get upset.”_

_“You’re always welcome here.” His voice sounded strained._

_“Thank you, and I mean, for everything. I promise I’ll send you a postcard.”_

_“You better.”_

_She sent postcards every time she could, bouncing wherever a greyhound bus would take her. She settled in New York at 18, laying tentative roots. She sent a letter, explaining this was an address she stayed at, and tried not to hope. When nothing came for weeks, she resigned herself to allowing that portion of her life to close._

_Months later, a courier appeared at her door with ‘sensitive materials’ from overseas. These turned out to be a large envelope from Killian. Killian, who now had a rank under his brother in the Royal Navy._

_Inside were cards he had held onto in response to every one of hers, and letters he’d written that had come back return to sender. She read them all, soaking in the years she’d missed. He’d met a girl he sort of liked at some party out in the woods, but she turned out to like a friend of his. The ensuing drama was written in detail through out his high school years, until he made the choice to join his brother in the Navy. ‘Mum always wanted us too, like our Grand da’._

_The most recent letter had a picture taken with a Polaroid, of indistinct ocean waters and a sunset swathed in plum colored haze. Black boxes with block print white text reading ‘REDACTED’ covered small sections._

_**Emma,** _

__

_**It’s wonderful to hear from you. We’re at [ REDACTED ] and the sunsets here are beautiful. It’s nothing like London, or Boston. Winter here is warm, and humid. I’ve been reading the local legends and studying their pictographs, cataloging them to possibly translate into cryptography later on. I promise, it’s brilliant work instead of how dully I describe it. That may not be true.** _

__

_**Are you alright? I want to hear everything, in detail, about what lead you to New York. I’d thank the God’s for a relief from scanning the same picture of a crocodile headed man over and over again. Some of these glyphs are absolutely fascinating, [ REDACTED ] which means we may find some type of early [ REDACTED ] weaponry. What are you doing for work now? Have you finished school?** _

__

_**Liam says hello, and that he’s glad you have made an honest woman out of a house.** _

__

_**Your friend,** _

_**Killian** _

 

_Emma wrote him, about everything. She poured the pent up feelings she had like she was emptying a basin, emotions filling the paper. It was some how easier, knowing that there was someone waiting without judgment halfway around the world._

_They wrote to each other as often as they could. He became her best friend, and she waited for letters like an anxious child._

_He wrote about meeting Milah, about falling in love with someone he shouldn’t, and she wrote about going on dates, and the strange men in New York. It was Killian who suggested for her to stop looking, and treat herself._

_She flew to Tallahassee that spring. When she met someone, the first person to know was Killian._

_His reply filled her with joy.  
_   
**Emma,**

__

_**Now you have an excuse to bring him to my wedding. Milah said yes. Save the date!** _

_Somewhere in the back of her head, she knew this was a dream - there would never be a wedding for her to save a date for._

__

* * *

 

It was much warmer than it had been, by at least twenty degrees, which was the first thing that shocked Emma out of happy dreams. The second thing that was now making her open her tent with deep unease was how bright it was outside.

 

The moon was unnaturally close, bathing everything in it’s dim light, which contrasted against the dark and starless sky it sat in. David was crawling out of his tent too, rubbing his eyes.

 

“Where’s M&M?” he asked, stretching. The fire was still burning, but it was mostly low embers. He threw a log on it, and looked around.

 

“I… I just woke up.” Emma looked around at the still woods, where there was no sight of Mary Margaret.

 

“Hey, M!” David called, starting to look around he edges of the clearing. “M?”

 

Mary Margaret’s voice rang out clearly through the treeline. David was up in a flash, sprinting towards her voice, screaming her name. Emma could barely keep up with him at the frantic pace he kept.

 

“David! Please, No!” Mary Margaret’s cries were wracked with pain and fear.

 

Just as it had started, the screams ended in an eerie silence, and the wind rose with a sudden gust, actually knocking Emma backwards slightly.

 

“Mary?” David yelled, as they came out of the woods. The moon illuminating hundreds of wild flowers that swayed back and forth, overlooking the town. A large sign was visible now, as the moon cut through the thinning fog. “Silent Brook”. They were back by the cabin, even after a days walk. Had the flowers been there before? Had the sign? Emma wondered mildly how they could have gotten so turned around, but her focus was diverted quickly.

 

David stomped through the field, pushing flowers aside to an indent in the middle. He choked out a sob. Emma approached, and he held out Mary Margaret’s scarf, crying in the silence of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first piece.  
> Perdu is one of those distinct French words, that means "Lost".  
> No beta or editor, if you like this, please let me know.  
> You can find me on tumblr at Courtorderedcake, to see more of my twisted soul.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks as always to the wonderful, supportive, and brilliant Tumblr CS community. 
> 
> Shout outs to Artistic-Writer and Holly-the-Curious who have tolerated my many questions. 
> 
> Double chapter upload today, for Christmas... And also because this one is a set up chapter and is hella short.  
> xoxo.

After sitting with David as he stared down into the town, eyeing the now visible sign, Emma finally cleared her throat.

 

“Should… Should we check the town? She might be…” Emma gestured to the streets below, and the lightening sky in the east. “She may be down there. We don’t know what happened.”

 

David grunted. He stood up briskly, setting his jaw and staring down the hill.

 

“Do you believe in Hell, Emma?” he asked quietly.

 

Emma shook her head, and turned to meet David’s eyes. “No. I don’t.”

 

“That’s good, at least. I think this is it. I think this is hell. She was right… Something is wrong here. Nothing feels right. I can always find her, but she’s not here anymore and I know it.” He sighed deeply. “I don’t… Emma, we have to get out of here.”

 

“Ok. How do you suggest we do it?”

 

“We’ll get in the car, and drive. That’s all I have so far. We just need to get out of here and quickly.”

 

“David?” He looked over to her again, and she could see he was crying. “What did you dream about?”

 

“Not right now.”

 

They made there way back into town, towards the car. Emma heard the noise first, the sound of splintering wood, and a low rumble. She stopped to look back, watching with slow and horrific realization as the ground swallowed the forest behind them. David yanked her wrist and they were running towards the town, past the car, past the cabin. Dust and fog mixed over everything behind them until the noise stopped.

 

Carefully Emma, crawled from the slanted sidewalk they were now laying on, towards what looked like the edge of the earth. Staring down at the open maw, she saw the cars lights rolling over rocks like a toy, devoured by the sudden sinkhole.

 

David nudged her, nodding silently to movement on the opposite side of the street. The nearest shop was a toy shop with a marionette on the front, named “Geppetto’s”. The quake of the sinkhole had left a window without glass, and after a cursory inspection, they slipped inside, holing themselves into a the top apartment, watching shadows converge on the street.

 

“They’ll be less active soon.” David whispered, peeking out the window at the street. “They don’t like light, but this place is foggy so day time only protects a few.” He sighed.

 

Emma nodded, looking up at the ceiling.

 

David cleared his throat, and looked at his hands.

 

“Emma, about my dreams here…” He clenched and opened his fingers, over and over. “I lied to Mary Margaret. I didn’t want to scare her if I was right about this place being hell.” He looked at Emma, and she met his gaze. His eyes were glassy.

 

“Emma… I think I’m here because I did something awful, because I failed.”

 

_The floor was hard, and cold on her face. She felt her skull rattle from impact._

_“You are a spectacular failure, Em.”_

_She felt the world turn on it’s side, black spots twirling in her vision._

_“You don’t listen, follow directions, you don’t care about people. That’s why you’re alone. That’s why people don’t choose you. It’s like you’re cursed to break everything you touch, to ruin things.”_

_He pulled her by her hair, and she looked up at him as he sneered._

_“But I chose you Em. I love you, and you love me, don’t you? You don’t want to be a disappointment, you don’t want to lose another person.”_

_She felt her heart scream yes, that he was right. She couldn’t stand to be alone, she needed him._

_“So this is what’s going to happen.” He gripped her face with one hand, painfully, squeezing her cheekbones. “You’re not going to help some other failure. You’re going to stay here with me, nowhere near someone who makes you lie to me. I’m going to give you another chance to make this right.”_

_Her heart soared, and he kissed her softly, stroking her hair._

_“I’m sorry I need so much help, I’ll do better, I won’t go to help him again. I’m sorry I lied, it wasn’t his fault, it was mine.”_

_His hand pulled her hair sharply and she cried out. “It doesn’t matter, you le when you’re around him.  Don’t want you around him.”_

_“I’ll tell him I can’t be anymore, I promise, thank you for staying with me, thank you, thank you-” She said, crying. The words poured out of her mouth, and he released the hand in her hair to press a finger to her lips softly._

_“Oh, Em, I love you too much not to be your hero. Tell him tomorrow that you’re done helping him.”_

__

 

David’s dream started out with a call from his boss. A Captain Mills.

 

“It’s the same call as 4 years ago. I’m with my partner, and we get a call to respond to a robbery in progress. We head in, and spot the perp, a long time offender of ours. Known to be violent. He’s completely enraged this time though, on some kind of drug or something. I tell him to calm down, and my partner asks from the car if we need back up. I tell him no.”

 

“The bastard runs straight at me, charging me, as I turn around. He’s ridiculous strung out, and we’re fighting over my gun. My partner, Graham Humburt, he gets out of the car and I’m yelling that this guy, Hyde, is trying to grab my gun from the holster. Humburt tasers him, but he doesn’t even feel it. I’m trying to keep him from getting my gun, but he's like a wild animal.”

 

“Humburt calls for back up on his radio, and I manage to get the guy off me. I check my holster and my guns not there. Hyde shoots me twice, once in the shoulder and once in my side." He pointed to a spot near his upper rib cage. "Humburt gets off one shot before Hyde shoots him four times. Hyde pulled the trigger on himself next. I survived. Humbert didn’t. It turns out Mills and him had something going on, no one knew about. He was going to propose to her.”

 

“I get the same call, again, but this time it’s Mary Margaret and I in my car, Tink half asleep in the back. We’re heading down this hilly road out by where Tink lives, in the middle of nowhere. Neverlane, is the street name. It’s all pine forest, dark dirt roads, and rocky ocean bluffs.”

“We stop at a stop sign, and Mary Margaret and me are bickering, but I hear Regina call over my radio for domestic dispute, and I go to respond, to turn, and a car hits us speeding through. “

 

“Tink goes flying through the windshield, she wasn’t wearing a seat belt. I try to grab her hand, and I can hear Regina’s call on the radio. ‘Nolan, come in’, over and over. Another car slams into the car that sped through the sign, then spins into our car. Our car flips. “

 

“And then I see Humburt. He’s shouting and I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I can see that he’s walking towards the other car, and his hair is long and shaggy, and he’s got a gun. I know that he’s coming to take me and M&M away because I survived and he should have. I see the lights of sirens and I close my eyes, ready to go with him. And that’s where I wake up.”

 

David put his head in his hands.

 

“Humburt took me where I belong. M&M and Tink didn’t belong here. That’s why…” he choked on the last words, “I’m here.”

 

“Not to be rude, or rain on your pity part there Buster, but where do I fit into that?”

 

“I don’t know. You must have done something.”

 

“Okay, Well. Number 1,” She said holding up one of her fingers. “That sounds like a terrible accident, and I’m sorry for what happened to your partner. If he was a good guy, which he must have been to be your partner from how much of a prince you are, do you really think he’d drag you to Hell of all places?”

 

“I don’t-”

 

“And look, number 2, why would he take your true love? And an innocent bystander? It’s more likely that you’re here because of guilt, if anything.”

 

David blinked. “Guilt.”

 

“Yes, guilt. If we’re going with the whole ‘supernatural entities at work’ premise here, this definitely isn’t hell. For one, I have seen zero clowns. This is some personification of guilt. Maybe. Or else maybe we are just meant to never find out. Regardless, it’s not Hell, even if it has gotten warmer.”

 

David half smiled. “You know. That actually sounds… Yeah.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Without asking, he gave her a bone crushing hug. She looked at him with horror as he pulled away.  
  
”Or, Okay, maybe this is hell.” She eyed him suspiciously and laid on her sleeping bag, getting tired.

 

“Friendly. Maybe like a sibling or family thing. Don’t look into it.” His humor was coming back, and she was grateful. “Get some rest, Emma.”

 

She curled into her sleeping bag, hiding the small smile from the idea of David as part of her family, and fell asleep.

 

_She is in a large hall, maybe a ballroom, dressed in red, a white mask covering her face. Faceless shadows swirl around in couples dancing to a silent song, but she turns alone like the ballerina on a music box._

_A warm hand encircles hers, and she gazes into blue eyes, a black mask obscuring the rest of his face. She falters when he changes the steps, but he catches her, always catches her._  
_”There’s only one rule love, pick a partner that knows what they’re doing.”_

_She feels the air whoosh out of her lungs as she hits the final step. Her entire being is on fire with pain as she gazes up at him, trying to understand. Her name is Swan, but she has no wings to fly. He’s leering down at her, eyes slit. “Look what you’ve done. You’ll have to go to the hospital this time, and I swear if they ask any questions…”_

_He buys pop tarts and her favorite beer, and she brings him lunches. Him being around makes things tense, but she would rather risk wrath then lose this piece of freedom._

_When she runs, he finds her, and she feels like prey. He let’s her know every time how short her leash is, and that he enjoys the cat and mouse. His smile is sharp._

_“You said you never wanted to be alone, and so, here I am.”_

_It’s a curse and a comfort._

_She’s surprised how easy it is to cover bruises left carefully to avoid suspicion, surprised that no one can see her inner workings twisted so tight they might snap. A clock wound up so the springs creak._

_An envelope the color of butter yellow between her fingers. She let’s it drop into the trash. What’s inside of it should never have happened. She’s a failure, the illusion has broken, and she knows that this time, it wasn’t her fault. This time she has to run, to fly, to reach for something better._

_She digs the envelope back out, and sews a pocket into the lining of her bag. She hides it, vowing to do better than what she had._

_The sound of grinding metal like she’s in a blender with a tin can. Something is burning, rubber and gas permeates the air. Smoke swirls in tendrils around her as it becomes harder to breathe, and she falls to her knees. A monster hisses her name in her ear, extending the syllables out like a hum that vibrates her molars. Her mouth tastes like iron, and her scalp feels damp._

_She smells rum, but it’s not right it shouldn’t be here. It makes her angry, she knows it doesn’t belong, it doesn’t fit, and she wants to scream. She struggles and fights to get out of the seat to escape._

_A light goes on outside and there’s a silhouette to her left of a man, saying her name but it’s wrong too. He keeps saying her name wrong, when she listens Emma turns into Em, and she’s angry. She kicks at him and he yanks her out of her seat._

_There’s a shout, and thunder booms nearby. She tries to turn her head towards the noise, recognizes the sound and tries to place it. She’s yanked again, and she see’s stars as she tries to see a face. It’s a monster, but it’s also a man, and that terrifies her as it smiles at her ready to strike. It takes her in it’s claws and throws her to the ground, knocking the air out of her chest._

_She’s being pulled over wet leaves, dragged away to this beast’s den. It’s laughing, triumphant, until wails pierce the sounds of it’s steps. It tenses. The predator is scared? A monster is hard to scare, but a man…_

_She hears voices, Ruby and another woman’s voice she doesn’t recognize._

_****“So, How long had they been dating?”** ** _

**_“Maybe 6 years on and off, but Killian and her have known each other since childhood, they had a falling out. She doesn't like talking about it. The last time Emma and I spoke, we fought, and she told me she loved him, and would always choose him. I just…” Ruby’s voice cracked. “I just can’t believe this. I was so wrong.”_ **

**_“Thank you. We’ll interview them tomorrow.”_ **

_The monster’s laugh echoed in her ears._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first piece.  
> Perdu is one of those distinct French words, that means "Lost".  
> No beta or editor, if you like this, please let me know.  
> You can find me on tumblr at Courtorderedcake, to see more of my twisted soul.


	5. Chapter 5

Killian had lived a long life in short years, and had survived in situations that would have destroyed weaker men.

 

Waking up handcuffed to a hospital bed, with very little recollection of how or why he was there, still was new. He felt familiar drugs in his system keeping him from hurting, and cursed his luck. They would give him the urge to scratch an old itch that he’d have to fight off on top of whatever the hell sort of trouble he was in. Things floated hazily in his mind, things he knew were important, that probably had to do with why he was handcuffed.

 

He resigned himself to sleep, and the hope of answers to come.

 

* * *

 

 

_Liam’s death had taken every bit of light out of his world in one swoop._

_Suddenly, everything was dark, tinged gray. Milah put the wedding and celebration of her divorce on the back burner, letting Killian cling to her. She could handle anything, never slowing down for a moment, but maintaining a fierce grace. She cleaned, cooked, and pushed him to move, never stopping. He had wondered how she could manage, but ignored it. It was easier to focus on his grief._

_Milah provided comfort, but she was distant, always talking about the next adventure they should go on to take his mind off things. Pushing scared him, pushing meant he might lose her. For a while it worked, and he ran with her, noticing more and more slip ups in her demeanor. She wasn’t hungry. Some days the smallest things would make her tense. She was always busy, meeting friends, going to parties, never stopping until sleep took her by force, causing her to nod off._

_When he finally noticed, she promised him that it would make running easier. He’d understand, once he took his first bite of the proverbial apple, how easy it was to forget the bad things. She showed him why she never needed to stop moving, why she knew so many people from the underground to the tonne, why her husband had so much money, and showered her in luxury. Why every morning she was up before him and in the shower with the door locked._

_It felt like an orgasm, but better, and longer. She was right, there were no problems after the wonderful prick of the needle, just the most sublime peace. She would trace his tracks, and they’d lay in the calm of some hotel room, lying in a cocoon of warm numbness. He found out the hard way not to drink rum, Milah rubbing his back in circles as he vomited for what felt like ages. They’d smoke  cigarettes instead, and sit with cups of coffee staving off sleep until the eventual nod or crash. He’d follow her and their mistress to wherever they chose to go, posh mansions or inner city slums on a dirty mattress, fingers interlaced after snorting lines._

_The come down was the worst, but Milah was always supplied, always ready to move on to the next adventure. Her demands were more needy than his. He didn’t care about the frequency as long as she was there, and when she wasn’t they fought brutally, yelling and her throwing things, holding out until he broke under her gaze. The neighbors complained, but he couldn’t. He was addicted to not only what she supplied, but her, everything about her. He couldn’t say no to her._

_One night she didn’t come back to their hotel room in London after her ‘errands’. It didn’t bother him at first, he had enough to get him buy, stored away in case of her holding out on him. He sent her his good night texts, and wasn’t surprised when she didn’t reply. Lately she liked trying out the goods before sharing. After two days and nothing but her voice mail, Killian started to itch. This was some new torture. He called around to the many drop phones they had numbers too, nothing._

_He injected the last of his stash, figuring he’d go around to Jefferson’s in the morning. He nodded off after an hour or so, enveloped in warmth, and the dream came._

_Milah floated down like something out of a renaissance gallery, hair swirling around her head, glowing in a loose fitting dress, eyes bright. Euphoria filled him at the sight of her. In the back of his head, he knew he should be upset. He knew something was wrong. But that could wait._

_“Killian. I’m so sorry.” she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before fading away._

_He reached towards her, but felt her turn to dust between his fingers. He watched the powder fall away, dust in a lazy wind. He turned his head to see Liam, watching him intently. Another pang of sadness somewhere far off._

_“Killian, this is not who you are meant to be.” He felt his heart beating painfully in his chest. “You are better than this. I wanted better for you, and you have shamed my memory.”_

_Killian tried to speak, but ash coated his tongue. He watched in horror as Liam faded away. He stumbled out of his room, trying to catch Liam before he disappeared. His chest hurt and it was hard to breathe, but he didn’t care. Liam stood before him one last time as he fell to his knees, a shell of who he was._

_Liam leaned down, whispering into Killian’s ear._

_“You’ve forgotten my face, brother.”_

_Killian was found near his room in a hallway, face down, and barely breathing. At the hospital he learned of Milah’s death, which somewhere deep and primal he already felt. She’d OD’d at Jefferson’s, quietly ending their love and her life._

_He agreed to treatment, stopping at their actual apartment to pack his things. There, spilling out of the mail slot, were letters from his Emma. Worried letters, letters begging him to answer, letters with drawings she’d done of buttercups, a charcoal drawing of a shaggy haired man with dark eyes, a watercolor of a bruise on her wrist shaped like a seahorse, and sketch of her place in Boston. He opened a letter with a yellow envelope, and a polaroid picture of her in the sunlight smiling on top of a yellow VW bug fell out fluttering to the floor. He picked it up, running a thumb over her hair, lit gold by the sun. He'd worried Emma._

_He wrote her as soon as he settled in treatment, pinning the picture up somewhere he could see everyday. Emma was all he had left._

__

* * *

 

 

When he woke up next, it was to a nurse arguing with someone about pain medication.

 

“We didn’t know he was an ex addict, we were just trying to treat him. When you have a gunshot wound, past drug history doesn’t play into what we use. We gave him more because he needed more to go out and stay out while we did surgery. Tolerance can be strong even without recent use.”

 

He liked this nurse.

He mumbled, against his better judgement (Which with the painkiller's in his system was 0 - none, presently), "I like you, ma'am, give 'em the wut for."

The nurse's eyes glared dangerously back at him. A fierce pixie like face, dressed in blue scrubs. She snapped at him, "Eat your jello." and returned to speaking to the other person.

He glanced at the plate in front of him, where a mesmerizing blue blob danced lazily. 

 

“Make sure he’s lucid is all I’m asking.” said a harsh and authoritative woman’s voice. “He’s killed someone, possibly kidnapped someone, and has three people unresponsive including one of my best officers. I want him awake the next time I’m in here.”

__

* * *

 

__

_After treatment, and equal parts suggestions from Emma and his substance abuse counselor, he moved. England had nothing left for him, let alone Europe. It was full of ghosts and temptation that was hard to ignore. He sold the apartment, sold the cars Milah owned, and sold the last remnants of a life that was no longer theirs._

_Emma was waiting with open arms. He found a cheap apartment close to her that she visited often, checking up on him and making sure he was fed, working, and wasn’t slipping back into old habits. He found a job at a book store, working with a nice girl named Belle who was working on getting her degree. Emma tried her best to set them up, which failed spectacularly when Belle confessed to him that she was head over heels for a guy in her home town._

_It became a simple matter of routine for him. Wake up, crave, shower, eat breakfast, go to work, think about buying from the guy on the corner, go home, make dinner, think about using and go to bed. Emma was the only change in routine. She’s come over and talk to him, tell him about her day, laugh at her clumsiness which caused bruises to appear regularly, and sit with him in comfort reading. She’d have a beer with him, eventually turning into two beers, and then drinks. He found that alcohol numbed the feeling of need slightly._

_He started bringing a flask with him to work. He didn’t drive so it wasn’t an issue there, and he found himself less worried about things. Emma didn’t seem to notice, and seemed distracted. He tried to talk to her, but it seemed bad luck had it out for her. He got a text from her boyfriend stating she’d taken a bad fall, and wouldn’t be around as much. Sure enough, Emma texted him pictures of her sheepishly holding crutches, bruises blooming on her wrists and head. She’d tripped down the stairs at home._

_He drank more when he was alone._

_If no one noticed it was only because he was ready this time to hide it, carefully drinking at night until he could fall asleep in peace without nightmares plaguing him, or insomnia sitting on his shoulders. Drinking during the day became a game, a challenge, of how sober he could act. Little mistakes blamed on not getting enough sleep, breath mints popped after bathroom visits, not speaking to keep from slurring. His brother’s voice echoed in his head, and he needed to drown it out._

_Emma noticed first, of course. She hobbled into the book store, intent on lunch, and immediately knew that something was off. That night, she sat with him and he told her everything, letting her stroke his hair as he gave in to angry tears._

_“We’ll get through this.” She’d smiled, and she looked so tired. He’d do better for her._

_The first stumble was hiding a few bottles away out of the many he’d watched her pour down the drain. She’d caught him almost effortlessly, looking at him with pure sadness when he had lied to her. She could always tell when he was lying._

_The second time had been when he’d gone to Belle’s going away party, and he’d started with only a beer, which turned into multiple drinks and calling her. When she’d answered, she sounded scared. He was furious with himself. She’d picked him up in tears, and begged him to stop._

_The third and last time, she’d found 2 bottles of rum hidden away in a cupboard behind kitchen appliances he couldn’t remember the last time he used. She’d left her key on the table, and blocked his number, disappearing from his life again. She’d left a simple note._

_“This isn’t who you are, Killian. Get help. -Emma”_

_He left shortly after._

 

* * *

 

 

When he woke up the next time, he was in much more pain then before. His ribs ached, it hurt to breathe, his shoulder was on fire, and his head swam from the multiple injuries screaming at once. Whatever he had eaten sat in the pit of his stomach like a cannonball.

 

“Ah. Mr. Jones. I see you’re beginning to join us.”

 

He had visitors. Peering over to the seats next to his bed, he saw a pale, dark haired woman in police uniform next to a skinny fidgeting man with short brown hair, also in uniform.

 

His throat felt incredibly dry, like it was coated in fine grit sandpaper.

 

“Aye.” he rasped.

 

“I’m Captain Mills. This is Officer Scarlet.” She gestured without looking at the man. “We have a lot of questions for you.”

 

“M’kay.” he said with a vague nod, before feeling nausea well up from the movement.

 

“First, would you please consent to us testing your blood we found at the accident site for drugs or alcohol against a recent sample?” Said the man, clinically.

 

“S’fine.” He said, before blinking. “Wait.” he croaked, trying to sit up. “Accident?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Jones. Accident. You ran a stop sign, hitting a car and causing the death of one of the passenger’s. A Miss…” She trailed off reading off of a stack of papers. “A Miss Tiffany Niezowkeiski, or ‘Tink’ for short. The driver and other passenger are in critical condition.”

 

“That-” he shook his head, vaguely remembering lights and noise. “That can’t be right. I don’t remember-”

 

“Well, you may not. Your backseat was doused in an open rum bottle, along with the front seat and your clothing.” She held up a bag full of his clothes, a dark red flannel bright against the pale yellow evidence tag.

 

“I have been sober for years, Mrs. Mills, I don’t-”

 

“Officer Mills.” she snapped. “Well, and that’s the _interesting_ thing Mr. Jones.” She pushed out interesting with a dangerous sounding edge. “We have reports you were in the midst of a domestic disturbance, and with a person reported kidnapped by her significant other. That might drive the most sober person to drinking.” The smile that appeared on her face was predatory.

 

“I live alone, I’m not sure-”

 

“So, Emma Swan, the passenger in your car, hasn’t been living with you for the past two months?”

 

His mouth fell open in absolute shock.

 

“Emma’s here?” He tried to get out of bed, forgetting both the pain that ripped across his body, and the dratted handcuff holding him to the hospital bed. “Can I talk to her, she can tell you that I-”

 

“Emma, who you kidnapped and held against her will, is unresponsive with brain trauma from your little accident.” Her smile became a smirk, and anger bloomed in his chest.

 

“I would never hurt Emma. She’s the last family I have left. Please let me see her, please, I don’t-”

 

“Mr. Jones.” The male voice talked next, soothingly. “We have enough evidence to have you arrested for attempted murder, manslaughter, and kidnapping.” He looked grim, and Killian felt his heart start to pound in his chest. “If Ms. Swan or an of the other victims die, we will charge you with their murder as well. We also will charge you pending the results from what your BAC reads or if there are narcotics in our system.”

 

“So you can stop with the amnesia bullshit, is what Officer Scarlet is telling you.” Captain Mills snarled. “It won’t fly in court, you might as well drop it now.”

 

Killian felt the nausea return as his head spun from everything he was hearing. He moved to lean across his handcuffed hand, causing Captain Mills to reach for her weapon, before promptly getting sick all over her shoes. Bright blue spread across the pea green floor, his mouth now felt coated in fruity slime. His body screamed from the movement, and machines began wailing as he fell back onto the thin pillows. As nurses began to rush in and put an oxygen mask on him, Captain Mills wiped her shoes with his blanket, disgusted.

 

“We’ll see you soon, Mr. Jones.”

 

* * *

 

“Peter.” The baby faced man looked up with surprise.

 

“Oh hello! It’s good to see you. I got your messages.” Peter shuffled nervously. The man’s gaze burned through him.

 

“Then, I suppose it’s done?” He tapped his cane impatiently, and Peter tried to remain calm.

 

“The moment the money hit my account, everything was signed and sent.”

 

“Good. If I need anything else I’ll call, dearie.” The old crocodile smiled a crooked grin. “You’ve done my family a great service.”

 

He sent a text, on his phone.

 

**_**_G: It’s done, my boy._ ** _ **

**_**** _ **

**_**_N: Thank you, Papa._ ** _ **


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long wait, long chapter.  
> Get ready. The next chapters are reunions.

David was right, the shadows were much more subdued during the day.

 

They rolled up their bedrolls, and made their way out of the shop, heading for the other side of town. Deep fissures had cracked open on the roads, making the terrain uneven, and heavy fog hissed out in swirling tendrils. The sky was overcast, but the day felt even warmer than the last, not cold or warm. Shadows moved in the fog, but seemed unaware of their presence for the most part, only lashing out when Emma strayed too far into it’s depths.

 

The other side of town sloped downwards in places, the asphalt pulled towards the earth and metal sticking up in places. David helped Emma over some of the more steep places, before they both stood over another large gully where the earth sank steeply. There was no bottom in sight, and it stretched as far as the eye could see.

 

David checked he bearings by the shops they’d marked in town, and they headed back towards the parking garage where they’d met, determined to get out of town. They didn’t speak much, Emma’s bleak optimism that Mary Margaret may be in town was met only with his “intuition”.

 

“She’s not here, Emma. Just… Just trust me. She’s not here.”

 

The parking garage had crumbled into a heap of rubble that moved precariously when they tried to climb it. David went ahead, sure footed and unafraid - something about rock climbing - and came down more solemn than before.

 

“I’m back to my hell theory.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Emma.” He looked at her with worried eyes. “There’s nothing out there, but fog seeping out of another damn pit - and something big is moving around in it.”

 

Emma shivered. They made there way back to the diner, where they sat cautiously in one of the outer tables. Fog was rolling in thickly.

 

“There’s a sea, the opposite direction, but fog rolls off it thick enough to spread on toast.” David said, brows furrowed. “I saw a dock, but it’d be impossible to navigate in a fog that thick.”

 

The fog thickened further, and the sky began to darken. The air felt still, and the fog began to roll in thicker, which even Emma knew meant that a storm was approaching. The shadows stirred, making jerkier movements and twitching too close for comfort. Emma motioned at David when she saw a group moving close, pointing towards a pawn shop with faded “WE BUY GOLD!” signs in the windows.

 

She lead David into the Pawn shop, closing the blinds and locking the door. He backed deeper into the show room, and tripped to the ground, landing next to a large old fashioned radio.

 

Emma peeked out of the blinds, looking for the shadows that followed. She took a deep breath and focused on her breathing. It felt like something bad was coming, like the feeling she got as a child when she knew another family didn’t want her. She counted, repeating to herself quietly, willing her body to stop it’s trembling.  
  
_”SWAAAAAN.” Screamed Agnes, the newest in a line of wicked foster moms._

_Emma went to hide under her bed, knowing this woman’s club handed rage too well. Even minor infractions were met with a sound crack in the jaw. Emma was still as stubborn as ever though. A crack in he jaw would never stop her from protecting the doe eyed sisters that shared her room from Agnes’ wrath. Pain was no motivator._

_She heard the older of the two sisters cry out in pain, as she was thrown in front of Emma’s line of vision._  
  
_”Swan, girl, get out here now before I make your behavior someone else’s problem. Like Polly here, for instance.” She grabbed one of the girl’s long braids, and lifted her back up. Polly squealed in fear._

_Emma crawled out from beneath the bed, and Polly was dropped down again. She gave a look of pained gratitude to Emma and ran downstairs to finish her chores. Emma steeled herself for the first crack, steadying her breathing, counting out again and again in time with blows, 1, 2 , 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…_

Snapping back to reality, she checked outside again and saw a shadow limp by the door too close for comfort. She ducked down, and willed her heart to stop pounding.

 

“David!” she hissed, quietly. He had his back to her now, intently focused on the radio. “David, we need to move back, there’s one-” in horror, she watched him flick the radio switch on. The shop was suddenly filled with a chorus of sound and noise. Beeping, yells of pain, metal against metal, rushing fluid, electronic whines, moans of sorrow, a horn blaring, and the distinct roar of a monster that she recognized from her dream. Emma covered her ears as David simply put an ear to the speaker listening intently.  
  
”DAVID! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” Emma yelled. David switched off the radio, as suddenly as he turned it on, with a smile on his face. He’d gone mad. Emma was sure of it.

 

“Emma, didn’t you hear the radio? It was Mary. She said… She said I just need to find her. I’ll always find her. I have to w-”

 

“David, pull your self together!” Emma shook him, and he began to shake his head.

 

“No, Emma, you don’t understand. Look at me, it’s going to be alright. I’ll find you too if I have too, but Mary says she needs me. We just need to-”  
  
The door began to shake on it’s hinges and the windows broke against metal bars. Shadows clawed at them, the stench overwhelming. Emma screamed, as one of the shadows claws ripped at her hair. David pulled her toward the back room, and locked the door, blocking it with a tipped wardrobe. She realized that she'd lost her pack, and her jacket was ripped.

Emma ran towards the back door, checking to see if there were any shadows there. She motioned for David to come on and slipped out the back door. A sudden flash and gust of wind caught her in the back, causing her to fall forward, rolling her ankle. Trying to stand, she turned back where deep fog was rolling in.

 

“Fuck. David, I don’t think I can walk on th-”

 

There were no sounds through the fog of footsteps or movement, only silence. David was gone.

 

She heard it’s cackles first, and then saw it searching through the fog down the street by a crumbling clock tower. It had grown since she saw it last, it’s grotesque shape bloated and twisted.

 

“Emmmmmmaaaaaaa… Emmmmmmmmmaaaaaa… Come out, come out. You know I’ll find you. You know you don’t want to be alone.”

 

She looked around for a place to hide, as it lumbered around, breaking windows and climbing the town like a giant, black, bubbling centipede looking for her.

* * *

 

_The yellow envelope rested heavily in her hands, and she was petrified. The fear stuck in her throat like thick bile, threatening to spill. She should be happy, she should be excited, but instead she felt deep in her bones the sudden realization of the truth._

_She had to escape._

_There was no way she would alone anymore. The clarity of understanding was blinding - he was a monster. A manipulative beast who had convinced her she was worthless. Bruises colored her skin, he’d gotten smarter and made sure they were under clothes._

_The nurse was kind, and had given her a brochure for a cheap apartment across town. It would do until she could find something more permanent, and get a footing._

_She took a deep breath, and peeked into the sunshine yellow envelope once more, looking at the black and white sonogram photo once more._

_It was time to save herself._

* * *

_The noise of shattering glass woke her up instantly, her eyes shooting open and her body tensing immediately._

_She ran to the closet, reaching for bullets to her gun as quietly as possible. She cursed herself for not having it loaded._

_“Emma?” She heard Ruby’s voice call out to her, and she stopped. How had Ruby found her? She’d been so careful to cover up her tracks, to keep him away from her. “Emma, it’s me, Ruby.” she stepped out in the hallway carefully, the hair on the back of her neck standing. This didn’t feel right._

_“Emma, I’m sorry, I know you said to stop calling, but I’m scared for you- That’s why I’m leaving you this message. Please call me back.” Her blood ran cold. Message? Before it processed she saw his shadow at the end of the hall, hulking, shaggy haired, eyes wild._

_“I told you, Emma.” He smiled sickenly, reminding her of a crocodile in some cartoon she’d watched as a small child. “I will find you. You cannot escape me, or our love.”_

_She screamed, until he stifled it with his hands._

* * *

 

At first she had hidden, watching the mass of shadows move past where she lay under a dumpster. When the coast was clear, she had hoisted herself out, hobbling down the alleyways until she’d come to a dock where water and fog fought each other. The water was choppy, waves rolling thickly and making the fog appear to moan the sound of creaking wood. Emma moved into the fog, carefully, each step making sure it didn’t lead her to fall into the roiling water.

 

After a short walk, she found a gangplank and crawled up it onto the deck of a small ship. With a little more crawling around, she found a trapdoor that led to a small bunk room. Searching around, she was able to find a piece of broken oar and some netting to fashion a splint.

 

Lying down on the bunk, she rested her leg above her head, stacked on old faded books to lift it. She closed her eyes, and cried, falling into a restless sleep while the beast outside howled her name.

* * *

 

 

_He was careful, he’d given strict orders that she say she fell moving boxes. She’d move back in with him, he’d pay to break her lease. They’d go back to things as normal. She sat next to him, trying to regulate her breaths, and look passive. She had to keep herself safe, couldn’t set him off._

_She’d gripped the bruises forming on her wrists, and tried to not cry. Nothing could be normal again._

_“You’re right. I over reacted, I was scared. I’m sorry.” She smiled as contritely as she could, praying she would escape again._

_He smiled back, stroking her hair. “See, Em? It could be like this all the time if you just listened.” He reached a hand to her cheek, and she involuntarily flinched. She could feel his body tense, heard the sound of indignation as his hands pulled away. He was balling them into fists._

_“I’m- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I will listen, you’re right-” she scooted away from him, in a panic. “Please, I promise, things are going to change I wanted to tell you-”_

_The first crack was deafening in her ears, and sent her sprawling. He wasn’t being as careful,and he collected himself. He stood over her, as she tried to clear her vision._

_“Ems.” He shook his head sadly. “Why do you have to ruin everything you touch?”_

_She curled up, wrapping her arms around her body, and cried._

* * *

 

Emma woke up to the sound of more earth crumbling, a rumble that shook her and the boat like leaves in a storm. She peeked out of the window of the bunkroom, watching as fog blew away, and the shops, the clock tower, the diner, everything in town fell with an earth shattering grinding noise into the sinkhole.

 

The resulting shock wave collapsed the docks, and she flew back hitting wood hard. Her splint shattered, sending waves of pain down her leg again, but adrenaline kept her moving. Scrambling up onto the deck, she grabbed the wheel of the ship desperately trying to move out to sea. Waves smashed around her, hitting the boat as she clung to the wheel. She watched other ships crack in the onslaught, as she weaved through the best she could.

 

The noise from town stopped grinding, and turned into a inhuman growl. Looking over her shoulder in panic, she saw a giant black mass begin pulling itself out of the hole in the earth. It was huge, and contorted into a creature out of her nightmares, it’s face turning into a leer full of hateful malice.

 

It’s brown eyes stared directly at her as it began to move towards her. The blue eyes full of sadness were gone, instead replaced by more bulging eyes that blinked at random intervals.

 

“Oh EMMMMMMS.” It yelled, laughing out of a black shadow face. She knew it was smiling, even without a proper mouth. “I’m coming for you, Ems.”

 

Her blood ran cold, and she looked up at the sails, praying she would be fast enough to get away.

* * *

 

_The hospital was sterile, foreign, and cold._

_Her phone vibrated non stop in her bag, rattling against the yellow paper of the envelope she had hidden in an inside pocket. He knew she was gone. It was only a matter of time, but she’d gone to the farthest hospital she could to get a head start on this escape._

_When they called her back, it wasn’t to the same room she’d had her exam. This room was a cool, neutral gray, filled with framed paintings of landscapes of the sea and a small fountain in the corner. She sat on a dark slate couch facing a deep green armchair._

_It wasn’t until right before the Doctor walked in she noticed that the pamphlets in the corner were all about varying forms of dealing with loss. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her lungs and eyes burned._

_“I’m Dr. Fa.” Said the woman with dark hair sitting in front of her. Her voice was soft, but assertive and kind. “I’m here to talk to you about what happened, the procedure we want to perform, and dealing with your miscarriage.”_

_Emma felt the tears she’d been holding for so long break through._

* * *

_She kept the yellow envelope, and they offered her a small memory box to bury._

_Her head swam. Everything was too big, too much, and the box that held nothing was too small, her body felt empty, she was breaking, breaking, glass under her skin and in her throat-_

_“Go home, Emma.” Dr. Fa had said, hugging her. “Go home, rest, heal, and grieve.”_

_Emma had no home. She had a car, and she had a tower that a monster kept her locked in. She had friends, but none the monster couldn’t find and hurt. She had no family, no one to keep her safe from his wrath. She shook behind the steering wheel, reading his messages, his anger through the texts turning to threats. She deleted the messages, knowing more would come._

_The contact name in her phone above his blinked down._

_“Klein and Johnson’s Auto repair”, 1 text in the folder from a few years back. She peered at it, and tried to remember when she’d ever used that service. Opening the thread, she read over it, realizing that she’d hid Killian’s name to protect him from potential snooping._

**_K: I’m sorry. If you can ever forgive me, I bought land on the coast. 305 Neverlane St._ **

_Emma turned on the car, and punched the address into it’s GPS. She prayed he was there and he could forgive her. Turning her car onto the highway, she dropped her phone out the window as the sky began to churn out cold autumn rain._

* * *

 

The open ocean waves hammered against the ship, and sleeting rain flew sideways against the deck.

 

She could barely hang on anymore, praying to get away from the monster she could see stalking her through the squall. It’s silhouette was lit by lightning flashes, and she could hear it’s roars of rage mixed with thunder. It moved easily through the sea, making heavy waves in tandem with the storms.

 

Soaking wet, shivering, and fingers numbly maneuvering the wheel, she cried out into the wind as she felt herself grow colder and colder, soaked to the bone. Everywhere as far as she could see to the horizon was darkness and nature’s fury, no matter which way she moved the ship. She heard the back portion crack, and fell forward hard away from the wheel.

 

She looked up to see the beast crawling over the ships creaking hull, resting to hover over her. It had mutated further, many bulging eyes on it’s warped face, now contended with pincer like jaws. It’s arms in the front were long and clawed while many smaller arms covered it’s sides, ending in a thrashing tail. It leaned in so close she could smell it’s putrid breath, it’s clawed hand lifted high as it roared.

 

It lashed out, breaking apart the deck easily, cracking wood into splinters. She moved to roll out of the way and fell into the churning water, letting it squeeze the air from her and letting her lungs burn. She was tired. So tired. Closing her eyes she gave in and stopped struggling. Let the water take her. Let the shadows have her. She felt her body ache everywhere, fluid filling her lungs as she finally breathed in. The inky darkness of the water spread everywhere in her bones, and she could hear a dull mechanical tone in the silence, before she heard the voices.

 

_**“Code blue, we have a code blue! We need a crash cart!”** _

__

Emma felt lightning hit her again and again, the storm hunting her even in the deep stillness of the sea. Her eyes opened wide, and she could no longer let go, she had to struggle. Every shock made her burn and lit the water around her into a clear ice colored beauty. She was reminded of opening her eyes in a sunlit morning and meeting eyes that color. Her chest filled with warmth.

 

Her thoughts were broken as she heard the monster far off, it’s growls of rage fading away and then Ruby’s voice was there, so close it was in her ear,

__

_**“Emma, you have to stay, please, you have to stay.”** _

__

A fire ignited. She would fight. She would save herself again, not drown in this forgotten place. She fought to the surface, and collapsed on a piece of wreckage, letting the water take her away into the storm.

 

She let her mind go, let it fill with a swirl of blue eyes, dappled sunlight, a gingham comforter. She could imagine the smell of the sea, pancakes and pine, warm cinnamon on hot chocolate, and a hand reaching for her with a silver ring on the thumb. She smiled, and the current pushed her away from the storm as she fell deeper into exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first piece.  
> Perdu is one of those distinct French words, that means "Lost".  
> No beta or editor, if you like this, please let me know.  
> You can find me on tumblr at Courtorderedcake, to see more of my twisted soul.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks as always to the wonderful, supportive, and brilliant Tumblr CS community. 
> 
> Shout outs to Artistic-Writer and Holly-the-Curious who have tolerated my many questions.   
> I always need help, advice, and readers so drop me a line. I also am happy to answer any questions.

Killian was woken by the sound of some alarm going off, and he called a nurse himself knowing now was the time. He’d been planning for hours between fitful bouts sleep that were interrupted again and again by pain.

 

No nurse came, as he thought, but he called out to the sitting officer outside his door.

 

“Oi, mate, I need to get up and use the loo, can you let me out for a tick? There’s no nurses around.”

 

The officer sitting was the skinny man, Scarlet. He sighed, annoyed. “I don’t think I’m allowed…”

 

“Listen, by the sound of that, they’re busy, and I’d rather not lay in my piss for who knows how long. Bathroom is right there, right? They took the catheter out earlier and I’m sorry you missed the show. I’ll just need your help to get in, but lucky for you I can do the rest.”

 

Scarlet sighed, but obliged, unlocking the cuffs, helping Killian out of the bed. His body screamed, but this was worth it. The hospital was small, like the town. He needed an idea of the layout.

 

Once out the door and down the hallway, he pulled his trick, ready for pain as he fell on the ground hard.

 

“Oh, bloody buggering hell,” he groaned, and let the pain rip through him. Scarlet to his credit looked horrified, and went to grab a nurse, which gave him the time he needed. Gritting his teeth he counted through the pain, until it became a dull throb. With great effort and a push of his foot, he slid on the floor moving to crane his neck around the nurse station to the hallway where the noise was coming from. He felt his stitches pop, but ignored it. He needed the layout of this place. He could see most of the rooms from this angle. Surveying the small amount of rooms, he looked down the hallway in front of him. Two sliding doors had there curtains drawn, the closest to his.

 

The rooms were in a large rectangle around a central nurse’s station, 3 rooms on the bottom 2 rooms on the sides. He could see patients inside a few, while 2 were completely empty. To his right, next to his room, there was a woman staring at him intently, close cropped dark hair almost covered by gauze. In the room next to hers, a blonde man was drinking juice, also staring intently but with malice. The last room was where the crash cart was and nurses were moving around with purpose.

 

Straining his ears, he listened and frowned when he heard someone say, “Emma, you have to stay, please, you have to stay.”

 

His lungs constricted as he heard the commotion continue, a flat line turning into a slow beep. He could hear a woman crying inside, possibly her friend Ruby she has talked about. He’d found her room. Emma was in there, fighting for her life, and fighting to give him answers.

 

As Scarlet came back to take him back to his room, he was joined nurse with a large jug that he assumed the purpose for. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the door curtains in the room next to his flutter. He didn’t see a face, but caught a view of dark, shaggy, brown hair.

* * *

 

 

His dreams weren’t muddled or violent for once. He was on a beach, watching a storm far off in the distance. The sand under his feet was cold, and the wind that tossed his hair was no better. He rubbed his arms, noticing he was no longer in a hospital gown, but instead a red flannel shirt and jeans, his shoes neatly placed together a few feet away. A forest rose up the beach, along with mountains. A cold tropical paradise. Just his luck, even in his dreams he was screwed.

 

Walking along the beach holding his shoes, he found himself trying to dissect the strangeness of the last 24 hours. He was accused of kidnapping, attempted murder, and manslaughter. His hand immediately shot to his neck to scratch, the thought alone making him feel sick. And the thought of him drinking, let alone rum left him more nauseated. Even the smell made him sick, not only physically but mentally. It made him feel alone. It made him think of…

 

Emma.

 

Emma, who had supposedly been living with him for the past 2 month, Emma who hadn’t spoken to him in years, Emma who would never forgive him for being an idiot and allowing the last person he cared about forced to leave. He wracked his brain, trying to dredge up any memories of her presence, and a blurry memory surfaced, blooming hazily like a dream -

 

_He’s not awake, but it’s freezing, rain slaps against the roof, it's close to 3 in the morning and he’s overwhelmed by annoyance that someone is knocking at this hour. He opens the heavy door, and a figure is shivering in the cold, dripping mud and water, and he’s about to tell them to fuck off without guilt until the eyes flash up filled with tears, they’re sea glass and first spring growth, he about swallows his tongue in shock. Of all things in the infinite cosmos, he grunts to cover his choking on pure anxiety._

_“Please, I have nowhere else to go.” He barely hears her over the sound in his chest, can she hear it? He can’t find words, and he’s positive that he’s still asleep, he’ll wake up in an hour alone, sweating, reaching over to the empty side of the mattress for a phantom that never rested in his arms as much as he willed it._

_“Fine. Come inside.” He rasps out._

_It’s robotic, but he gives her towels, and a few of his cleanest shirts along with a pair of pajama pants she can tie the waistband of. He’s waking up more, not looking at her long enough for the dream to reveal itself and for her to disappear or be warped to be less then perfect. She’s always been perfect. They don’t say anything, she just dries her hair and goes to the open bathroom to change._

_He makes tea, praying on the whistle of the kettle the dream won’t betray him and she will not disappear behind the bathroom door into a place he can’t follow. It’s been bricked before, or opened into a darkness where he can hear her and Milah and Liam yelling for him but he can’t find them in the shadow, and he is so alone._

_She sits behind him and he looks at her, truly, for the first time. Damp stringy hair covers her face, her knees drawn up against her chest as she sits on the sofa. The cushions dwarf her size, and she looks gray, too skinny, shaking as she slowly rests her head against her knees._

_She’s real._

__

His head aches from the memory. It felt like someone was trying to dissect his brain out with an ice cream scoop, that lay forgotten in a freezer. He had heard the Doctor’s tell Officer Mills (Regina to one Doctor, who quickly changed his tune) that it could take time for things to come back. Something about shock, head trauma, brain injuries. Killian was slightly amused that at least he wasn’t imagining the quite literal feeling of losing his mind.

 

A brain injury could also easily explain going to a beach in your dreams, to escape the sounds of hospital.

 

He kicked sand, still barefoot, and mustered a small smile at how real this was. He could get used to head trauma if it summoned him a better space to be alone and wet, cool, sand between his toes. Maybe he was mad. That alone could even be a comfort.

 

The sand landed in shallow water, near some large driftwood poking out of the water. He waded in, amused yet again at how cold the water felt on his calves and feet, pulling a heavy piece of wood out of the shallow water and sand. A large plank with bolts and rivets sticking out, the metal icy and slightly rusted. Glancing further down the beach, to where the sun was beginning to cast it’s light, he caught a glimpse of gold against orange lit sand.

 

He dropped his shoes, and his feet were moving as fast as they could take him, until he was pulling her out of the lapping waves. She wasn’t breathing. He ripped off her torn red jacket, desperately feeling for a pulse on her neck and feeling the faintest butterfly wings of one under his fingers.

 

He pushed on her chest, in time like Liam taught him, and pressed his lips to hers, realizing this was a nightmare- one of his worst. He breathed air into her lungs, listening for anything, before returning to pump her chest again. She was going to die in his arms, it was going to be his fault, maybe they were right and this was his guilt -

 

Emma sputtered, and he sucked in his own breath, watching her puke sea water. Her eyes fluttered and she looked at him in disbelief, before closing them again and taking small gulps of air.

 

_She looked at the tea cup in front of her, but made no move to drink it._

_He sipped his own, watching her with wary eyes. He was awake, she was here. Even if she wouldn’t talk to him, even if she was still angry, this was a step towards her forgiving him._

_“I’ll.. I’ll get you some blankets.” He says, after silence passes for minutes and her tea is long cold. He reaches to take it away, and she flinches, so sudden and violently he drops the mug._

_“I’m… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean too, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot, I should never have… I am so sorry I can’t-” She’s on her knees picking up the pieces of the mug as he stands there like an absolute idiot, because she’s sobbing, and shaking. Tears are pouring off her cheeks, hitting the spilled tea. “I shouldn’t of, I -” she pulls back a piece of her hair, and he notices the hospital bracelet around her small wrist, the bruises on her temple and forearm._

_He stops her, as gently as he can taking her hand. She’s still shaking and she won’t look at him._

_“Emma.” She’s not here to forgive him. “Why are you here?”_

_When she can’t answer, and can only cry, gulping air into her lungs, he wraps her in his comforter and holds her until he feels her breathing even out. He carries her to his bed, knowing he won’t sleep tonight, watching her curl into a ball._

_“I will keep you safe, Swan.”_

__

His head pounded, his temples felt like they had been pressed into a vice. Emma shakily sat up, looking at him like she’d seen a ghost.   
  
”Why are you here?” She whispered. “How are you here?”

 

“I don’t know. This is my dream, I could ask you the same question.”

 

“This isn’t a dream. You need to get out of here, before it finds you.” Emma’s eyes were wide, full of fear. His head pounded in his skull, and he gritted his teeth against it’s splitting pain.

 

“They said I hurt you, Emma. That I killed someone, kidnapped you, and tried to kill you. That you’re in a coma.”

 

“I can’t remember, Killian.” he felt his vision blur and reached for her. A warm hand pressed into his, and he heard her in his ear. The pressure in his head was easing as her voice faded. He clawed at the dream, trying to hold on to any scrap of it. “Please don’t leave me here, please don’t leave me alone.”

 

“I’ll find you Emma. You’re not alone.”

 

“Killian, I -”

 

He woke up gasping for air, sweat pouring down his body. He tried to hold together pieces of the dream, only to be interrupted by a cold female voice.

 

“For someone who isn’t guilty, and has no memory of anyone, you sure do scream ‘Emma’ in your sleep a lot. It’s almost like you are guilty.” Officer Mills smiled from beside him, her chair flipped so she could lean her arms on the headrest. “Truly strange that you also have several domestic abuse and noise complaints back when you were with a… Milah?”

 

He couldn’t control the rage that bubbled up. “You don’t know shit about me, Regina.”

 

Her eyes flashed, and he grunted, looking up at the ceiling. He tried to steady his breathing, remembering Emma’s face and pushing himself to remember. He could hear the Officer’s dark chuckle over his thoughts.

 

“Oh, but I do know your type, Killian.” She spat his name like it was a curse. “ I know all about the liars, and the let downs, how when you find someone worth it you hold them tight. And I know how people like you ruin that.” He looked over at her, and she held a file folder, looking at him with a smile that betrayed the disgust in her eyes.

 

“We got the results of your Blood Alcohol Test.” Her lips were dark red, and her smile was dangerous, serpentine. “Would you like to see how year's of sobriety is treating you?” she handed him the file.

 

He opened it carefully, taking in the hospital name. “Storybrooke General”. A Dr. Peter Pannke had performed the testing, and a chart showed a normal range and heavy use for reference at the top of the paper, along with symptoms.

 

> 0.02-0.09 BAC: Depressant effects are not apparent. Mildly relaxed and maybe a little lightheaded, Feeling of well-being, relaxation, lower inhibitions, sensation of warmth. Euphoria. Slight impairment of balance, speech, vision, reaction time, and hearing. Euphoria. Judgment and self-control are reduced, and caution, reason and memory are impaired, .08 is legally impaired and it is illegal to drive at this level.
> 
>  
> 
> 0.10-0.19 BAC: Significant impairment of motor coordination. Speech may be slurred; balance, vision, reaction time and hearing will be impaired. Gross motor impairment and lack of physical control. Blurred vision and major loss of balance. Euphoria. Judgment and perception are severely impaired. Dysphoria may predominate, nausea can appear. The drinker has the appearance of a "sloppy drunk."
> 
>  
> 
> 0.20-0.30 BAC: Feeling dazed, confused or otherwise disoriented. May need help to stand or walk. If you injure yourself you may not feel the pain. Blackouts are likely. All mental, physical and sensory functions are severely impaired. Increased risk of asphyxiation from choking on vomit and of seriously injuring yourself by falls or other accidents. You may pass out suddenly and be difficult to awaken.
> 
>  
> 
> 0.35 BAC: Coma is possible. This is the level of surgical anesthesia.
> 
>  
> 
> 0.40 BAC and up: Onset of coma, and possible death due to respiratory arrest.

 

He skimmed down, and felt himself getting nauseous once again. This couldn’t be right.

 

He’d blown a .80 . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's now been established that Killian can reach Emma under certain conditions.  
> Make sure to review, a lot of answers are coming, I promise. 
> 
> My first piece.  
> Perdu is one of those distinct French words, that means "Lost".  
> No beta or editor, if you like this, please let me know.  
> You can find me on tumblr at Courtorderedcake, to see more of my twisted soul.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning, Smut ahoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took long enough! Long story short, I struggled writing this and then I also had luck with some serious health issues making it possible to be more active again. I should be updating regularly on Sunday evenings, but no promises. =}

_“Emma.” He rasped, choking the words out. He looked at her eyes, blown out and dark. Tracing a finger of the lingering bruise on her cheek and forehead, as she winced, he sighed. “Emma, we shouldn’t do this.”_

_“You don’t want me, then?” She could hear him bite back a groan as her hands slid through his waist band and under his boxers, cupping him firmly. She lightly drew a nail over his shaft, and he bucked, reaching back for some purchase to hold onto. “I’d say I’m ready. I save myself, and I’m choosing you out of my own free will. I want you. Please.” Her grip tightened, and she yanked his pants down along with his boxers, freeing him._

_“Fuck.” He threw his head back as she let out a of puff hot air on his cock. He let one hand grip the counter top, while the other slid through into her hair. “You make a convincing argument.”_

_She smirked up at him. “I know.”_

_She took him into her mouth, bobbing her head and hollowing her cheeks. His hand tightened in her hair, and she gently held his hips back as he tried not to buck into her mouth, taking him deeper into her throat, while her tongue swirled wickedly. When she cupped his balls, stroking him in time with swirls of his tip, he pushed her back panting._

_“Are you alright?” Emma looked up at him with a heady stare, licking her lips. His eyes were blue rings around black, the desire evident as he licked his lips._

_Pulling her up to his mouth roughly he growled into an uncontrolled kiss, pushing her back toward the bedroom._

_“You’re wearing too many bloody clothes, you siren.” To emphasize he ripped open her blouse, and yanked hard on her jeans. He lifted her up into his arms, she kissed him roughly, his lips warm against hers, so warm…_

She was falling, her veins were ice, her lungs were full of snow, until warm lips were melting against hers. Air replaced snow in her lungs, and she tried to breathe -

Emma sputtered, coughing up salty water onto cold sand. She tried to open her eyes, catching a glimpse of a shadow looming over her, with eyes so blue she was lost. It couldn’t be him. This was a cruel trick. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She pushed herself up on shaky elbows, kneeling in the sand, and gazed at him desperately.

 

”Why are you here?” She whispered. “How are you here?”

 

“I don’t know. This is my dream, I could ask you the same question.” His dream? Where did he think he was? Did he not know what danger he was in? She couldn’t hide the horror that set into her bones. Something in her twisted, snapped, like a branch broken by frost.

 

 _She was freezing, even wearing the over sized hoodie he’d provided. It smelled like him and she shivered. It was from the cold, obviously. She looked at him, as he mucked through the cold mud fall rain had created. The bug was deep in his driveway, wheels and bumper on one side almost a foot deep. He raked a hand through his hair, and whistled._  
  
_”Well.”_

_“That’s not a happy, ‘I can fix this!’, well.” She bit her lip. He looked back at her, scratching behind his ear with a crooked grin._

_“We can try to tow it with my Jeep, but I’m pretty positive that we’re going to need Aladdin’s tow service.”_

_“Aladdin’s? My bug isn’t exactly a magic carpet, here.”_  
  
_”Well, it brought you to me. That’s all the magic I need.”_

_She blushed, turning her face into the hood, and taking a deep breath of pine, maple syrup, sea water and soap. She wasn’t so cold anymore._  
  
_He tied the tow line, and she started the Jeep as he pushed, the bug firmly wedged in the muck._  
  
_”Put it in four wheel drive on low!” he called to her, continuing to push even as the bottom of his jeans sunk further. She shifted the gears, and after a few tugs and him pushing the bug gave a lurch and he was down in the mud as the bug settled in another rut. She turned off the car and half ran, half slipped towards him where he was cursing, covered in mud up to his shoulders, shaking it off in thick globs._

_“Are you OK?” and laughter bubbled up with a snort before she could stop it._

_“It’s funny, is it Swan?” He said, with a glint in his eye. Her mouth was halfway forming the ‘No’, rounded just like her eyes in fear, as he slipped towards her with amusement in his eyes. She let out a shriek as she slipped herself, falling backwards into the tread of the road. He hovered over her grinning and she gaped up at him._

_“You alright, love?”_

_Smearing a handful of mud across his stubbled cheek and watching as he gaped back at her, she smiled broadly._  
  
_”Now I am, Killian.”_

_He picked up a dripping ball of the wet earth, and she tried to slip away, laughing, as he huffed._  
  
_”It’s on now, Swan-” She nailed him with another ball of mud, in the shoulder. “Hey! Bad form!” he lobbed a handful at her laughing, both of them warring like children, slipping and sliding trying to get purchase on one another._

_He laid in a thin patch, eyes closed, laughing and spread out like he was making a mud angel, as the sun peeked out. She crawled over and poked him in the ribs, the hoodie sticking to her form._

_“Do you surrender?”_

_“Aye, love.” he peeked a twinkling blue eye out through a muddy mask. “We better get inside to call the tow place.”_  
  
_”And get cleaned up.” She added, picking pine needles out of his hair._

_“This is a five star spa treatment, Swan.” he said, mock hurt. “People would pay hundreds, no. Thousands, just to have a chance for my mud masks.”_

_“Sure buddy. Right now, the only thing I’d pay for is a shower.”_

__

“This isn’t a dream. You need to get out of here, before it finds you.” Panic gripping her voice, she moved towards him. It, that thing, was out there somewhere- and had probably realized that she was still alive, not floating among debris. As she looked at him, to her horror, he began to slowly fade away like he was turning to mist.

 

“They said I hurt you, Emma. That I killed someone, kidnapped you, and tried to kill you. That you’re in a coma.” His voice was starting to fade as well, hollowing out into an echo. Her body tensed.

 

Maybe David was right. Maybe this was Hell. What was he saying about killing someone and a coma? Nothing made sense, he’d never hurt someone let alone kill someone. This was a mockery of him, a poor substitution that was here to confuse her and make her weak. He was flickering out of her existence again leaving her with dreams of them together, happy together or memories of something that wasn’t, false memories of a life that never was. This thing was another shadow, creating the feeling of missing something, the feeling of words on the tip of your tongue or a worm in the back of your head wriggling like an itch you cannot scratch. The discomfort of looking at a puzzle with mostly missing pieces, made of jagged glass.

 

_He didn’t ask questions when she cried for days, or sat in the bottom of the shower until even after the water ran cold. He left clean towels, made hot tea, put logs in the wood stove, wrapped her in warm blankets and put on old movies. He sat on the other side of the couch watching her, sometimes reading or talking to her about everything and nothing at once._

_The cabin was beautiful. Two bedrooms, a large bathroom in the middle. An open main living space that held a kitchen with large windows, a living room with wood stove, a dining nook and a sitting area. A porch wrapped around the entire home, giving views of a sloping hill ending in ocean cliffs, all covered in pine._

_The first morning he’d tried to hold her hand and she felt her body stiffen, her mind falling back into darkness. She didn’t see him, she saw brown eyes and anger, felt panic rise in her like a flood over taking a dam, rushing through every layer of her body. He must have realized because he pulled back wide eyed, and maybe she had made that whimpering sound, but he kept his distance._

_She’d taken a shower and tried to scrub at the bruises, willing them to wash off. They didn’t. She covered her face with her hair and wore a hooded sweater. He didn’t question it. The only question he asked, every day, once in the morning and once at night was the one she didn’t want to answer._

_“Why are you here?”_

_She fell into his rhythm, his steady steps of routine and familiarity. Wake up and drink coffee on the porch, listening to blue jays, cardinals, and wood peckers squabble. Take a shower, him first, her second as he cooked breakfast. Eat. Listen to him read, or listen to the radio. Lunch and tea on the porch. Walk down the steep slope, through the pines, down the stairs by the cliffs, to the boathouse and walk along the beach. Head back, add wood to the stove, more reading or a movie. She watches him cook dinner tracing the wood grain in the countertops. They eat. They watch a movie while he tells her facts or trivia, his voice soothing as she falls asleep. She doesn’t remember him taking her to bed any night, but she wakes up wrapped in blankets feeling… feeling safe._

_Her first week is letting the grief become numbness. She wants to forget, to not remember that she destroys everything, that she deserves this, she deserves to be broken. She can be safely broken here._

 

“I can’t remember, Killian.” She whispered, and watched him as he faded further, reaching for her. His face looked like he was in pain and her heart ached. She tried to hold him, and soothe even this phantom. Touching him felt like cradling an eggshell, his hand in hers, and her lips at his ear. For a moment, she feels like being in the eye of a hurricane or like lightning jolts in her spine.

 

_“He’s coming!” Looking out the back window, she can see the headlights approaching, and his car slammed into the back again. The back seat is soaked, and so is he, the car stinks of rum even with the back passenger window broken. She wants to throw up._

_The road is dark and twisting, pine and oak trees reaching limbs from both sides like they want to pluck the car from the road. She feels like a cornered animal trying to escape a hunter, trying not to be found as every hiding place fills with smoke._

_The car is rammed again, and she’s thrown forward against the seat belt._

_“Hold on, just -” The headlights behind them fade as he makes a sharp and sudden turn, gunning the engine._

_“I know. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, he just wanted me, and I-”_

_“Emma, I promise, I promise you that he won’t ever -”_

_The words don’t make it off his lips. She’s screaming and he’s cursing turning to her and trying to desperately slow them from hitting the car in front of them as she see’s headlights in the rear view. There’s a crunch and they spin, and the lights are getting closer, she hears the other car get hit again, as it rolls and they are pushed further._

_He’s shaking her, desperately from the driver’s seat and she can taste blood, everything feels so slow and out of focus. There are headlights blinding her, everything is so bright and loud._  
  
_”Emma, Emma, God Emma, please, you have to get out of here. I can’t get this fucking door-”_

 _Her door opens and the monster is yanking her, pulling her away, trying to soothe her._  
  
_”Em, Oh, Em. Em, thank goodness your safe.” It’s said menacingly, there’s no worry or concern. She can’t see his face but he grips her too tightly. She tries to call out, but makes a pitiful moan instead. “You know, I kind of like it out here. Everybody seems to carry a gun when they live out in the woods.” He pushes something at her temple, hard and cool against warm and wet._  
  
_She can hear the sound of a door open and is dropped to the pavement, her head smacking down and body on fire, pain lighting like fireflies, blinking in and out as she blinks. Her head aches, but she hears him and tries to move towards him. Her thoughts are a mantra. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him. She turns her body over and pain rips through her, but she can see his feet underneath through her view of underneath the car. She can see his wobble as he tries to confront her demon._

 _“Don’t hurt her, I don’t care what you do to me you sick fucking bastard, but don’t hurt her-”_  
  
_The gunshot rips through the air, and she’s going to be alone again. She’s destroyed another person, let another wish for something better be crushed like a butterfly in his hands. The world is a silent scream she feels reverberate and she’s so alone, he has to be alright -_

She whispered frantically into his ear, “Please don’t leave me here, please don’t leave me alone.” Tears slipped from her eyes and if she had been drowning before, it was nothing, nothing compared to this. Her chest felt open, fear that had been so carefully buried bloomed up into a vine that strangled her lungs and throat, sobs escaping in gasps that hurt.

 

_She hears him hit the ground and his eyes meet hers. She reaches for him, and he reaches for her, and she wills everything in the world to close that gap to have his fingertips touch hers. The monster starts dragging her, and she struggles, trying to see the blue before it fades into another hopeless dream of escape. He kicks her hard against her temple as he drags her by her wrists. She sees constellations and the patient voice lying within a warm chest, mapping them as they rock on the ocean. Why didn’t she tell him then? Why did she come back into his life, when she knew she’d bring nothing but her pain and destruction, even if they had the tiniest and brief moment of joy? He’d told her, lit the frail flame of hope in her. She should have never let him, never been so selfish, never let him through her walls._

 

“I’ll find you Emma. You’re not alone.” he was almost gone, but his words were like light on the cold beach bathed in darkness. Even if these were dreams and he was a phantom, even if every moment was a wish that this place had twisted torment her she would take it, she’d take this over nothing and being alone, she’d tell him and let the words out just to hear them.

 

_It’s the last selfish thing she’ll do, feeling her body slip over wet leaves and holding every memory like it’s a precious jewel. Gathering her strength, she screamed his name, screaming over and over what she wants him to know. When they meet again, in every world, in every possible reality, he’ll know this truth. He’ll know that while it was selfish, she felt the same way he did. He’ll know that he was right, that it’s always been there. He’ll know that he was her sweetest downfall, and her greatest triumph._

_She screams it until the universe screams with her, wailing a siren’s screaming wail. Blue and red lights join the blurring stars in her eyes, and she tries to yell louder, her voice going hoarse. The monster tenses, now prey himself, and stops dragging her. She screamed on, declaring the truth until he loomed over her, and she felt the rock smash into her face. She whispered her prayer to whichever God’s will listen._

_“I love you, Killian.”_

 

“Killian, I love you.” She whispered to nothing.

 

She tucked her face into her knees, listening to the waves against the cold beach.

 

In the distance, the wind carried an angry roar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first piece.  
> My thanks as always to the wonderful, supportive, and brilliant Tumblr CS community.  
> Perdu is one of those distinct French words, that means "Lost".  
> No beta or editor, if you like this, please let me know.  
> You can find me on tumblr at Courtorderedcake, to see more of my twisted soul.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever to fine tune before I finally decided what exactly I wanted it to do.   
> I'm so sorry for the wait, but now that I've played with it enough to see where I need it to go, I've got a clear ending working with no loose ends, and a nice concrete finish.
> 
> I'd like to thank my dear friends in the CS community. I'm thinking of you often, and I appreciate you all so much. You inspire me to do better and make better works.

Locksley arrived quicker than expected, as he was in the states on business.

 

“Well.” He surveyed Killian, handcuffed to his hospital bed, and quite well beaten up. “You look like you’ve seen better days.” They both laughed, and Locksley walked past the uniformed officer to kneel, giving him a brief embrace. Locksley straightened, and surveyed the room. “Nice digs, where’s your warden? The security here is shite, you could do with a better guard as well as me.”

 

Killian nodded in the officer’s direction. He turned towards Scarlet who was looking at the suited man with furrowed brows. “Officer, my lawyer, Mr. Locksley. Locksley, Officer Scarlet, one of the finest men I’ve ever had watch my ass all day.”

 

Scarlet reached a hand towards Locksley, who stood reviewing the man solemnly. “Um, nice to meet y-”

 

“Where’s your Captain?” Locksley asked gruffly, setting his briefcase on the ground. Killian had spent a long phone call answering in yes or no questions a list of facts about his arrest. As Locksley read down the list, his candor changed, becoming heated and grim. A grim Locksley was a man who was going to hit a target with accuracy and force.

 

“My Captain? Captain Mills?”

 

“No, Captain bleeding Hook.” Locksley’s fists balled, and he pointed to the walkie talkie attached to the man’s belt. “Do you know how to work that thing, possibly? Tell this ‘Captain Mills’ of yours that I want an explanation as to why my client-” he stabbed a finger in Killian’s direction violently, “had a blood draw without consent, why blood from the accident site was also used, and why there isn’t the ghost of a warrant filed for either in this godforsaken town.”

 

Officer Scarlet noticeably gulped. “Look mate, I’ll give her a buzz over this, but she had the sample tested here and it was all following protocol-”

 

“Protocol?” Locksley spat. “Disregarding a SCOTUS ruling is now following protocol? Lucky me, I’ll go return my law degree at Oxford for a check of a 100,000 pounds! My Mum will be thrilled, I can finally put that down payment on that house in Greece she’s always wanted, since I’m no longer a lawyer doing favors for his friends! Not taking cases to the rich, but giving away my work to the poor, let me tell you, Mum will be ecstatic I can go into proper work like embezzlement or tax fraud. Oh, and testing wise, I’d love to speak to Captain Mills about that.”

 

Scarlet scampered to the corner of the room, not keen to take anymore from Locksley who was growing increasingly enraged. Scarlet spoke quietly into the mouthpiece, while Locksley continued raising his voice, much to Killian’s amusement.

 

Regina’s annoyed voice came over the other end of the walkie. “10-4, my 11-20 is two minutes away. Is that him crowing in the background? Tell him to take a seat before he hurts something, or his client will be paying for my Tylenol as well.”

 

Scarlet’s wince was evident even from behind. The room went quiet, as Locksley sat down in the chair Scarlet had occupied before, a truly predatory look in his eye making him look like a cat twitching it’s tale, or a fox about to suss a rabbit from it’s den.

 

“Yes, Captain.”

 

There was a pause, and then shoes clicking down the tiled hallway. Captain Mills stepped into the room, not in uniform, but in a plum peplum dress and heels, holding her belt in one hand and walkie talkie in the other. Her lips were the color of dark berries, and when she smiled down at Locksley, Killian could practical feel the air in the room crackle. These two were an equal match of opposing forces. Eyes widening, he wondered if it would be in bad taste to ask for something to put him under, so he could wake up once only one survivor stood to contend with.

 

“Mr. Locksley, I take it.” She purred out, not trying to hide the extended ‘S’ she put in his name, or the obvious grit overlapping the saccharine quality of her tone. “Captain Regina Mills. I apologize for my appearance, but, I was leaving a date when you demanded my presence. If I had known it was just a lawyer’s call to harass me and my officer, I’d have stayed for dessert.”

 

Locksley blinked. Killian realized with sinking anxiousness that none of the questions he’d been asked about Captain Mills being a woman - who, if Killian was not handcuffed to a hospital bed and abused by her regularly, he might say was somewhat attractive - had noted to his poor lawyer how attractive Captain Regina Mills might be in a dress with heels. Locksley blinked once more, before snapping back into his form.

 

He stood to his full height and extended a hand. “Robin Locksley. Lawyer.” he pointed to the hospital bed, but didn’t take his eyes off her form. “His Lawyer.”

 

“Well. That’s unfortunate for you. I suppose I gleaned that from Officer Scarlet telling me your profession directly while you prattled in the background, though.” Regina cocked her head with a smile.

 

They shook hands like each of them would rather bathe in acid than be in each others presence. Killian wondered briefly if he’d ever seen two people with this much animosity towards each other who weren’t married for umpteen years.

 

“What is it,” Regina leaned in the door way, crossing her legs. “That you needed me here so badly for? Did no one fluff the pillows for your murderer?”

 

“Well you could tell me why you’re ignoring Missouri v Mcneely, using crime scene blood 0 warrants-”

 

She chuckled, interrupting. “That case is moot when in situations where testing is needed immediately, to preserve BAC levels -”

 

“You still have to file a sodding warrant, unless you admit your officers can’t do their jobs.”

 

“I wouldn’t worry about my officer’s jobs, as much as I’d worry about your client,” She popped the t, chin jutting out and arms crossed, “Mr. Locksley.”

 

They squared off for another minute before Locksley let his shoulders drop slightly.

 

“Could we speak privately, please?” Locksley looked at her intensely, still trying to reach for an upper hand he knew he had lost.

 

“Sure. There’s a conference room this way.” She motioned to him to follow her and they began to walk out, Locksley grabbing his briefcase, but poking his head back in the doorway to give Killian another nod. Then they were gone.

 

Scarlet let out a whoosh of air from his corner, where he’d been trapped during this whole exchange. “Bloody hell, mate.”

 

Killian chuckled. “”Bloody hell is right.” He asked for the lights to be turned down, and fell into another fitful sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Killian’s feet touched cold sand again, the first words out of his mouth were her name.

 

“Emma!” He was on a rocky coastline, the wind gusting over dark water, making choppy waves. The placid beach he had been on before was not in sight, rocky cliff face bordered him on all sides where beach or water ended. “Emma!” he called again, cupping his hands around his mouth, bracing himself from the cold air that began whipping itself with force around him. Fog began to roll in heavily around him, and he saw shapes moving in the shadows. The hair on the back of his neck stood.

 

A rock hit him in the side of his shoulder, and he yelped. A woman stood near the sheer rocky cliffs, one he didn’t recognize. Wide, tired, brown eyes under a shock of brown hair stared at him, motioning him towards a gap in the cliff face. A noise came from behind him, a guttural inhuman groan, and he saw a distended body that lurched in time with the advancing fog. He moved toward the woman, watching her slip through the gap, taking one look back before following her. Distorted and dark creatures crawled or jerked along the coastline like a nightmare procession, and he hoped Emma was somewhere safe, nowhere near this swath of shore.

 

Following the woman through the dark crack in the rock, he maneuvered through the passage until it opened into a smaller room. She sat down in the corner, a campfire burning between them, eyeing him warily.

 

“Don’t come closer. I thought you were Da-” she stopped herself. “I thought you were someone else. Next time, if you see fog, find someplace to hide or run. That’s my advice. Those things out there don’t want to play fetch.”

 

“Alright, Lass.” He surveyed the cave. A fire pit was set in the middle, and tall sea grass was in the process of being braided into several mats. On a side away from the fire, seaweed was drying in long braids to serve as rope, most likely, along with what looked like the beginnings of a net. Assorted items were stacked on rocks, some shells, driftwood pieces, pieces of the boat he’d seen earlier, different leaves and flowers. A set of large branches stood at the back wall, a few sharpened into points, one with a stone haphazardly wedged into the wood.

 

He cleared his throat. “Can I ask you at least one thing?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, continuing on, “I’m looking for a woman, blonde, her name is Emma. Last time I was… Where ever this is,” he gestured, “I saw her and she thought she was alone, I’m trying to get back to her-”

 

“I would rather die a thousand deaths than allow you to hurt Emma ever again.” She was standing now, fists clenched. “I should have left you to those things! If I had known…”

 

“If you had known what? Why does anyone think I’d hurt her, if memory serves, she and I... We are close."

* * *

 

**_Heat blooms in his chest and he’s rocked back, off balance, before trying to step forward again. His step falters, and he realizes much too late, he’s been shot. The ground bites him sharply, as his legs refuse to hold his weight. His head cracks onto the asphalt, wind knocking out of him as his stomach and already screaming ribs meet the road with force. He searches for reason, and finds her eyes, she’s reaching for him, and he reaches for her. He can taste iron and dirt, and he wishes he could feel instead the gentleness of her hands in his, the warmth. He tries to tell her, but she’s being pulled away from him, and he reaches, reaches and tries to close the gap, spots dancing in his eyes. He feels drunk, everything is spinning…_ **

_He’s at Belle’s going away party, and he’s trying to only have one beer. He picks carefully, a craft IPA with a label that has a sour looking Bo Peep on it, called ‘Shepherd Bane’. He checks the other side, noting it’s from a ‘Nolan Farm’ that seems to be where Belle is relocating. After a few pulls, he decides if he’s ever in town, he’ll buy a case if he still has a liver._

_“Do you like that?” A male voice from behind him asks. He turns to see a sandy haired man, holding his own bottle of beer, the same label peeling off. He practically inhales the drink._

_“Yeah, it’s, pretty good I’d say.”_

_“It’s my family’s farm. I’m happy to hear you like it. We’ve got other craft beers, wait ‘till you try this dark ale called ‘Giant Toe’, it’s got a kick to it. David Nolan.” He thrusts his hand forward._

_Killian shakes it while also shaking his head. “I can’t have another mate, I’m-”_

_“Are you driving?” He shakes his head no, he doesn’t need to drive, he can get a taxi if need be, “Well then, no excuses. I’m home from the academy for the first free weekend since M &M and I started planning our wedding, I want to get wasted. I hope you’re better company than the men Belle usually brings around. I know she’s got it bad for one of the guys in acad with me, but she doesn’t have to pull  raging assholes in the mean time, you know?”_

_He didn’t know. He tried to talk David around it, but the man would not stop, and before he knew it a couple of beers had turned into 5. Some blonde named Wink or Mink had left a hickey on his neck for a dare, and he’d had several shots as a result of not reciprocating. In another drunken game of something called Moose King, he’d been subject to chugging some mixed drink that tasted like gasoline with a touch of lemon. When he was thoroughly and completely drunk, David announced him to be his best friend for the night._

_He was sitting on the porch with them, and brown, wide eyes stared at him from David’s lap, as he told everyone some uproarious story about him and his twin brother on the farm. Brown eyes, and long ringlets of dark brown hair._

**_He can see the same brown in the other car lolling out a broken window, blood dripping off of shortened locks instead of ringlets, the same sandy hair in a heap outside of an opened door. The same brown that’s so familiar -_ **

__

“I know you.” he says slowly, in absolute shock. “Mary, something. You were together with a David, he was in the Police Academy? If memory serves I know you, how do you know Emma?” He looked at her incredulously.

 

“Trying to kill us all will do that to you.” She picked up a stick and held it up like a bat.

 

“What? No. I met you at Belle’s party ages ago, back when I drank. Your husband to be hurried me along into sobriety. When did you meet Emma?”

 

Mary blinked at him. “You’re… You’re Belle’s Killian? The one who is sober, living by himself, trying to forget some Blonde?” The look of shock that crossed her face caused her to drop her stick. “And Emma, Emma is that blonde, the one that Belle saw getting beat on by that man after leaving your place!”

 

“Wait- just wait a tick here.” He covered his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Belle saw Emma being beaten? By who? I swear, I’ll - “

 

“Killian. Something is very wrong here. I met Emma here, before I woke up and found out I had a brain injury. David and I have been coming back to wherever this is every time our IV bags get refilled. We’ve been timing it. The nurses dismiss it, and we’re told it’s ‘trauma induced paranoia’ or some other excuse. We’ve never not been together until this time, and I didn’t… Emma is still in here? You didn’t hurt her?”

 

“Of course I didn’t bloody well hurt her. I think, I think we…” He sighed and sat on the ground. “I think she was living with me, and was in some sort of trouble. I’ve loved her for as long as I can think back.” He lifted his eyes to stare at hers, over the flames that were slowly dying. “I would never do anything to hurt her. I would never hurt her.”

 

After staring into his eyes for what felt like minutes, she nodded curtly. “I don’t know why you crashed into our car then, but we need to figure things out, especially if Emma is trapped in here. Does the name Neal mean anything to you?”

 

Something hard clicked inside of him, and his body went rigid.

 

_She hadn’t followed him like a shadow this morning, instead, she’d stayed in bed until mid day. He’d meant to leave her alone, but the quiet in the house was deafening. He knocked on her door, and when she didn’t answer after multiple attempts, he’d opened it in panic._

_He could see she was sweating, her hair stuck to her temples and a large t shirt of his stuck to her body. The entire coverlet and sheets were balled and crumpled into the floor, her body curved into a small ball._

_“Emma, love.” she stirred restlessly, and he sat by her side, gently touching her body. “Are you alright?” The question barely fell from his lips when she moved, and he could see the blood pooling between her legs. She woke up and clawed at him ferally, and he jumped back, shocked._

_“Don’t fucking touch me, don’t you ever fucking touch me again after what you did to me and my baby.” She snarled, eyes clouded with sleep but pulled into slits. “I’ll die before I go back, I’ll die, I’ll die before you touch me, I can’t…” she slumped, and began to sob._

_“Love..?” He tentatively approached her again._

_“I’m alright. I just… I just need to shower. I’m sorry to worry you.”_

_“You… You’re bleeding.” He met her eyes, and she looked so tired, tears falling from her eyes._

_“It’s normal after… After the procedure… After they…” She began to shake, and let her head drop to her hands. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Please, I just, I just want to - “_

_“Stay here, for just a moment.” he whispered, and headed into the bathroom, starting the shower for her. When he came back, she sat with her head in her hands as sobs wracked her body. “Emma, It’s going to be alright. I promise, I won’t hurt you like he did. I’d never hurt you Emma.”_

_She curled her body into his, accepting the relief of his arms._

_“I swear to you Emma, I’ll never be like Neal.”_

**_Smoke swirled above his head, and he heard sirens approaching. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, but he could hear her screams, while he desperately tried to reach for her. He had to get to Neal, had to Save Emma. He dug his hands into the dirt, dragging himself forward. Black spots danced in his eyes, his lungs desperately trying to pull in air that hurt to bring in or out. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He had to get to Neal, had to Save Emma. Red and blue lights flashed closer. Get to Neal. Save Emma. Had to Save Emma. He heard cars stop, grinding in gravel. Get to Neal. Save Emma. Save Emma. Save Emma. Darkness swallowed him._ **

****

**_Emma._ **

* * *

 

 

“Did you see the State Trooper car in the parking lot on your way in, Captain?” Locksley asked, drolly.

 

Regina raised an eyebrow, closing the door behind them. “I did, but I didn’t realize it had to do with our case. Does your client have previous warrants we missed? Will he be taken from my care and into the state’s custody like he deserves,” She sneered, “even earlier?”

 

“Actually, that’s the exact point of this little visit.” Locksley walked to the small conference table in the middle of the room, ushering her to sit. He put his briefcase on the table, taking out a several full manila folders. “What do you know about this hospital?"

 

“It’s the only one in town.” She sat in a chair, crossing her arms again, and shrugged. “Not much to know, really. People get sick or hurt, they come here, they either get better or they don’t.”

 

“So small town feel? Would you say they’re incompetent, or untrained due to being somewhat, one could say, backwoods?” He leafed through one of the files, pulling out a pamphlet.

 

Regina bristled. “No. This town has a sterling reputation which is by no means anywhere considered ‘backwoods’,” She shot him a glare, watching the corners of his mouth twitch slightly, “and the hospital is the jewel of that crown. We have some of the finest facilities, equipment, and medical staff in this hospital, who have won multiple awards for surgery and-”

 

“And biotechnology. Yes. From the pamphlet, I can see that.” He slid a hospital pamphlet over to her. ‘Storybrooke General’ greeted her genially at the front. “It’s bizarre to me, such a small town has such a prestigious medical facility. They seem to get a large amount of donations. Have you heard of this company here? Orsombre?” He flipped the pamphlet to the back, where companies that annually donated to the hospital were listed by size of donation. At the very top, a large logo in black and gold stood out.

 

She blinked, and looked down at the pamphlet. A logo of a large O and R with smaller golden lettering of SOMBRE written in overlay. She’d definitely seen that recently, but couldn’t place where. “That looks familiar, I suppose, but I still don’t- “

 

“The lab here is a division of Orsombre technologies.” His eyes met hers, and they were steely. “The lab that tested my clients blood.”

 

“Get to the point.”

 

“Why is it when I visited the lovely little lab here with warrant for seizure and a very annoyed Maine state trooper, your lab tech said he couldn’t find it?”

 

“What? He couldn’t -” she shook her head, and for the first time in ages, began to let her foot jitter in her heels. She took a breath, and swallowed, before continuing. “We did request a sample from the OR as well.”

 

“Surprisingly,” Locksley drawled, “That one is also mysteriously missing.”

 

“Who the hell steals blood, of all things, what the fuck is going on here -” She stood, slamming her palms on the table, dark hair falling in a curtain around her face.

 

“Captain Mills.” Regina looked over to him, as he slid a file across the table to her. “Take a look at these.” She began to leaf through the documents, reading invoices, receipts, logs, and other assorted papers, looking at photographs attached to carefully crafted profiles. Finally putting together the depth of the situation, she sat down in shock and horror, as a picture of Graham Humbert fluttered to the floor from her hands.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first piece.  
> Perdu is one of those distinct French words, that means "Lost".  
> No beta or editor, if you like this, please let me know.  
> You can find me on tumblr at Courtorderedcake, to see more of my twisted soul.


End file.
